Worthy
by Strawberry Shortcake123
Summary: "I am pregnant," she said, and with those three words, both of their lives began to spiral out of control. T for somewhat dark themes. Established Tiva.
1. Chapter 1

It was only a little after seven o'clock in the evening, but the MCRT team had been on the job for going on sixteen hours. They'd been pulled out of bed at three in the morning, convened at the crime scene at four, and had spent their day running all over the D.C. area conducting interviews. Now Tony and McGee sat in the bullpen, taping halfheartedly at their keyboards; Gibbs had come in half an hour ago and told Ziva to go home, because she was looking especially tired. She'd gathered her things and left without so much as a "Good night" or a backward glance. Even Tony was not acknowledged, and the longer he went without a text from her, the more he began to be bothered by it.

"What was up with Ziva?" McGee asked finally.

He growled under his breath. Leave it to McGee. When he answered, he tried to sound oblivious. "What do you mean?"

"She was really quiet today."

"Was she? I didn't notice."

The junior field agent's face clearly conveyed one word: _bullshit_.

Tony sighed and checked his phone. Still no new messages. Pushing it away, he spun around in his desk chair to face McGee's desk. "Look. Why do you assume I know?"

"Because you're dating her, Tony." McGee's eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. "Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, McNosey. Get back to work."

The glare he used to punctuate his command ensured that it was obeyed.

0000000000

They hit a roadblock with the case. There were files on the victim's computer that McGee repeatedly tried to open (while Tony peeked over his shoulder and made unhelpful comments), but the encrypted codes were indecipherable. When Gibbs strode into the squad room at 10:19, his sixth cup of coffee in hand, he barked at Tony and McGee to leave, and they didn't hesitate to jump out of their chairs.

"Tell Ziva to feel better," McGee called as Tony hurried off. He didn't bother disputing the assumption that he was heading to Ziva's; instead, he threw a wave over his shoulder, then stepped into the empty elevator.

As the doors closed, Tony tried to figure out what could be bothering Ziva. They really weren't fighting; in fact, he had been under the impression that they were doing better than ever.

Maybe he was wrong.

Twenty minutes later, his gut twisted as he pounded on the apartment door. Why was he so nervous about this? It was Ziva, his partner, his best friend, his girlfriend. Surely his perception of their relationship wasn't so far off that while he was thinking it was great, she was thinking of ending it. Hell, she had no reservations about yelling at him for leaving his dirty socks under her coffee table; even if it _was_ possible for him to misread the situation, she would tell him if she thought something was wrong.

A long minute passed before he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It opened a second later, and there was Ziva, wearing a tank top and pajama bottoms.

Her eyes were red and puffy.

"What's the matter?" Tony asked, immediately panicking and stepping inside the apartment. He shut the door behind him, then opened his arms for her. She drew back. "Ziva?"

She turned away, ducking her head. Her ponytail fell forward, obscuring his view of her face. "Go home, Tony," she said quietly. "It has been a long day. Surely you are tired."

Ignoring her request, Tony walked over and put his hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "Come on. It's me."

Ziva's eyes drifted shut briefly, and he thought she was about to talk, but then they snapped back open. They bore into him, large and sad. "Please, Tony."

He stayed where he was, made it clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"Fine," she snapped, and suddenly her eyes were flashing with fury, not sadness, and as she took several steps backward, his fear that he had done something wrong returned in a rush. "Fine, I will tell you. But you must remember, when I am done, that you asked me to. It is your fault."

_Ah, crap. _"Okay."

With a clenched jaw and crossed arms, she ground out three words as if saying them was causing her physical pain.

"I am pregnant."

0000000000

After the initial shock- because Tony truly hadn't been expecting _that_- he stuttered through a series of questions that he left unfinished and that Ziva didn't bother trying to answer. She just stood there, distant. It actually kind of scared him. _His_ Ziva laughed and smiled and made sarcastic comments. This Ziva… it was like all the life had drained from her body.

"Don't worry," he said at last. It was the first full sentence he had been able to form in three minutes. "It's gonna be alright." The reassurances were for himself as much as her; he tried to use them to calm his pounding heart. "I mean it. I know we said we were gonna wait a while, but… but we can go ahead and get married. We'll make awesome parents. You'll see."

"We are not!" Ziva yelled, an outburst that made Tony freeze up. The anger was back in her face, in the way she clenched her fists at her sides.

_This is not Ziva,_ he thought as he watched her. _This is her evil clone._

"We will not be parenting it, Tony," she continued. "I cannot be a mother. I am not fit to give life; all I do is take it."

Tears shone in her dark eyes, and Tony took that as his cue to step forward. Ziva wasn't done, though; she nimbly ducked out of his embrace and raised her voice. "How can I have a child who can never know of my past? It will be so innocent, and if it starts asking questions about me, about where I come from, and my family… I will either have to lie or take away its innocence. How can I tell my son or daughter that I used to kill people for a living? How," she continued, her voice reaching a crescendo, "am I supposed to look my child in the eye and say that the reason it doesn't have an uncle Ari is _because I killed him?"_

Silence fell over the room. The two stared at each other, each stricken and unsure how to proceed. And then, Ziva dropped her face in her hands and started bawling; fat tears ran over her fingers and her entire body shuddered.

Tony finally shook off his shock at Ziva's outburst and tried, yet again, to approach her. This time, she went right into his arms and allowed them to envelope her. He rocked her back and forth, waiting for her to calm down enough to listen to him. When her whimpers slowed and then stopped, Tony drew back just enough so that he could look into her face. Her eyes were even redder and puffier than before. A few droplets lingered on her cheeks. He brushed them away.

"We'll figure it out," he whispered. "All that stuff is in the past, Ziva. Every bit of it. I've seen you with Amira and other kids; you're fantastic with them. You'll be an amazing mother."

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "Tony, I am telling you. I am incapable of this. I cannot keep it."

"Zi-"

"No." She moved away; his hands fell limp at his sides. "I am going to carry it for ninth months, but after that, you can take it yourself or it will be put up for adoption. I am not fit to be a mother."

Ziva gave him a small, watery, rueful smile, and then turned and walked down the hall to her bedroom. Tony stayed where he was, completely taken aback by what she had just asked him to do, the choice she had asked him to make.

And he only had nine months to either make a decision or change her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Would like to point out that adoption is frequently placed in an unfavorable light in this chapter, but it's because of the circumstances Tony is facing. It's not meant as a personal affront to anyone who adopts or is adopted; in fact, I love adoption and plan to do it myself someday.**

_Five months_

Tony stood in the middle of Ziva's guest bedroom, admiring his handiwork. The bed had been pushed against the wall to make room for the brand new Graco crib with dark cherry finish. He had even stretched brown and pink polka-dotted sheets over the mattress and spent half an hour trying to figure out how to attach the pink dust ruffler to the bottom.

Eventually, he got it on correctly, and now he was trying to wrap his mind around what he had just done: assembled and decorated a crib for his little girl.

Last week, he and Ziva had gone in for a check-up, and Ziva had wanted to find out the baby's gender. This surprised Tony, because if she was hell-bent on giving up the baby, why would she care if it was a boy or a girl? And then, he realized that it might mean she was reconsidering. No such admission had been made to him, but then again, this was Ziva. _Pregnant_ Ziva. Her moods were swinging all over the place and she was making twice as many threats as usual; it was to be expected that if she didn't want to discuss something, she sure as hell wouldn't.

So today, he had taken off work (by sending Gibbs a nervous e-mail reminding him that he did have comp time so, really, he couldn't be fired for not coming for one day), bought a crib and bedding, and headed to Ziva's apartment to assemble it. His hope was that seeing it there, in her home, would prompt her to fully embrace the idea of keeping their daughter where she belonged: with them.

It was just after six. The sun was setting outside. Unless there was a case, Ziva would be home soon, so Tony sauntered into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV. As he flipped through the channels, he couldn't completely focus on what he was watching- his mind kept wandering to the crib, to the child, to Ziva. To what she would say when he showed her his handiwork.

At a quarter past seven, he heard the key in the lock and sat up, turning off the TV as he went. Ziva stepped into the apartment, caught sight of her boyfriend sprawled across her couch, and jumped, one hand landing on her swollen stomach.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, starting to take off her coat. Tony hurried to help her. "Have you been running up my cable bill all day?"

"Only for about an hour," he said with a smug smile. Ziva rolled her eyes, and he took her hand. "Listen. I have something to show you."

"Some food? I'm starving."

"Not yet, but if you hang with me for two minutes, I'll make you whatever you want." With that, Tony dragged her down the hallway, past the bathroom, past her bedroom, and to the guest room. They stood side by side in front of its closed door, and he, feeling excited and proud and scared, pushed it open.

For several seconds, Ziva took in the crib with no expression on her face. Tony watched her, waiting for a reaction. Finally, she looked over at him and said, "We will not be needing that."

"What?" He jogged over to the crib and draped his arm over it. "Ziva. Look at this. It's your favorite kind of wood. I would know; I've gone furniture shopping with you. I got this color on purpose, because I knew you'd love it." There was no change on her face. "And the dust ruffler? I didn't even know what it was called until I talked to the saleslady. But I knew you had one on your bed, so maybe you would like it on your baby's crib, too."

Tony watched her, the look on his face resembling desperation, but Ziva didn't smile or laugh or seem impressed with his taste in cribs and bedding. Instead, she shook her head slowly and started to turn away.

"Wait." He took three huge steps toward her, stood in front of her and clasped her hands, ready to try one last time. "Ziva, I know some part of you wants this baby. You asked for the gender. You know you're at least curious about her. Maybe you should think about keeping her."

"Tony," Ziva said in a very measured, controlled tone of voice, "I just wanted to have that information so we could give it to the adoption agency." She turned around and strode down the hallway without looking back. He felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach.

_Six months_

A woman named Melinda sat in Ziva's living room. She was about Tony's age and had blonde hair cut in a perfect bob. In her lap were lots of folders, each containing lots of papers, probably pertaining to the process they would take to give up their baby. Since arriving at the apartment, Melinda had been extremely chipper and pleasant.

Tony couldn't stand her.

She turned her wide, too-friendly eyes on Ziva. "You would like me to place the child as soon as possible, correct, Ms. David?"

"Yes."

Tony silently seethed as Melinda continued to look at Ziva, not bothering to ask his opinion on the matter. "I can begin an active search now, then. Hopefully we will be able to get the screening process done with by the birth."

Unable to remain silent any longer, Tony blurted out, "Are you gonna take her right after she's born?"

Melinda turned her wide, too-friendly eyes on Tony. "That's the goal, Mr. DiNozzo. It would be ideal if we had already found a home for her by then."

He looked to Ziva, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. Her eyes remained trained downward, focused on her belly. Why was she doing this to herself? To them? They had- or so he'd thought- a mutual desire for a family. Maybe it was easier said than done. Maybe her doubts hadn't come into play until she stood staring at a positive pregnancy test.

"If the two of you could sign this form for me," Melinda said, positioning a clipboard in front of them, "I can start working on it this week."

Ziva picked up a pen and signed her name, then slid the form over to Tony. He sat, frozen, remembering what she had told him months ago: he could take the baby. _He_ didn't have to give her up.

"We can change our mind, right?" he asked, looking at Melinda.

"We are not-"

"I'm not asking for you," Tony interrupted Ziva. "I'm asking for me."

With only a slight crease in her smooth brow, Melinda said, "The biological parents do have the right to change their mind upon birth."

If he did decide to raise their daughter, he would be a single parent; Ziva was making it very clear that she had no intention of being a parent. _Could_ he do it alone?

With a loud sigh, Tony lifted the pen and signed his name.

_Seven months_

It was past midnight and the lights in the bedroom were out, but Tony was wide awake. He was stretched out on his back, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Thoughts chased each other in circles through his mind.

Ziva lay on her side, her back to him, asleep and snoring. They had planned to go out to dinner earlier, but she had been tired and wanted to stay in, so he picked her up and brought her to his apartment, where they ordered pizza and had a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon. (No, that wouldn't have been his first movie choice, but pregnant, hormonal Ziva usually got her way.) And then, because it was late, they had both gone into Tony's bedroom and collapsed in the bed. Ziva was out the second her head hit the pillow, but he had been lying awake for half an hour now, contemplating the state of… everything.

Two months. There were only two more months until they would meet their baby for the first, and probably the last, time. His reservoir of hope was nearly depleted now. On the off chance it could still affect her, he had left the crib up in the guest room, but all she had said about it was that he had better return it soon if he wanted his money back.

_Maybe, _he told himself, _it's time to give it up._ If he began to accept the situation now, it might not be so hard to give the baby away when she was born.

Just as he had resolved to do so, though, Tony glanced over at Ziva and saw her shifting from her side to her back. Her large stomach rose like a mountain from the rest of her body. Before thinking it through and considering the fact that, again, he _was_ dealing with a pregnant Ziva, Tony found himself leaning over and whispering her name. She groaned low in her throat. "Ziva, wake up."

Her eyes opened and her hand instinctively shot out; luckily, Tony had enough foresight to quickly duck out of the way. When she registered who had awakened her, Ziva gritted her teeth. "Tony. What do you want?"

"I have to ask you something."

"Is it so important that you had to wake me in the middle of the night?"

"Yes."

She remained lying down, but looked at him; he was sitting up and staring at her. They held each other's gaze for several long seconds before Ziva snapped impatiently, "Well, what is it?"

"Oh." _Note to self: Don't ever disturb Ziva's sleep again. _"I was just wondering… do you really not want the baby?"

That obviously wasn't the kind of question she was expecting, and it was at least a full thirty seconds before she answered. Tony waited, heart pounding so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest. And then, when she softly said, "Of course I want her, Tony," it skipped a beat. In a good way.

"Then we should keep her," he said eagerly.

"It is not that simple," Ziva said, her voice breaking, and he felt the excitement leave his body as disappointment sank in. He lifted his hand and lay it on her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. As his index finger fell across the corner of her eye, he felt a drop of moisture hovering there. He wondered what she would do if he cried, too. "Tony, it is not a matter of me wanting her. I always have, from the moment I found out I was pregnant."

"Well, see, that makes more sense. You used to say you wanted children, so I don't… what changed?" His hand stayed pressed against her skin.

"Nothing. Except that I realized… I realized how wrong it is for someone like me to have something as wonderful and innocent as a child."

"That's still what this is all about? Look, I didn't buy that the first time you mentioned it, and I don't buy it now. What you've done doesn't matter. You deserve everything you want, and that includes a family." Repositioning himself, he leaned his forehead against hers. Her breath was hot on his lips. "You'll be a great mother."

For a moment, Ziva didn't say anything, and he allowed himself to hope that he had gotten through to her. But then she swiftly maneuvered her face away from his and turned back onto her side, facing the opposite wall. He sighed inwardly, but went back to his side of the bed. As he settled in, pulling the blanket up under his chin, she began to speak softly. "I will not keep you from your own daughter, Tony. You are much more worthy of raising her than I am."

Tony racked his brain for a response, but came up empty. Before he could sputter something out- even something simple but true, such as _you're wrong_- she was snoring again.

_Eight months_

For the past several months, Tony had been taking strange routes whenever he went to Wal-Mart. The goal was to avoid the baby section, which, he realized after Ziva got pregnant, took up a pretty large chunk of the store. From the main entrance, he took a left, walked all the way to the back, cut across the electronics (and, in the process, picked up a few movies), and then reached the grocery aisles. The fact that he went to all this trouble was probably some OCD thing he should be in counseling for; however, it was a well-known fact that he avoided shrinks at all times.

This had become Tony's automatic path to the groceries, but one day, when he was there to pick up some Little Debbie cakes (Ziva's pregnancy craving, of all things), he found his feet taking him to the baby section. Inside, he knew he shouldn't go over there, knew he should force himself to turn around, but before he knew it, he was standing it front of a bibs display. The one at his eye level was pink and had a bright purple flower on it. An image flashed through his mind, an image of a laughing baby girl wearing that bib while she was fed.

Shaking his head, Tony tore his eyes away from the bib and walked slowly down the aisle. Everything he saw was pink and purple, and they kept bringing more pictures of the little girl to mind. Where the heck was the boys' stuff?

At the end of the aisle, he turned the corner and ran right into a stray rack of onesies.

"Lovely place for that," he muttered, rubbing his arm, and his eyes happened to land on a onesie that read _Daddy did my hair._ For a moment, he just looked at it. Then he grinned and his hand- why couldn't he control his own body today?- grabbed it. He threw it over his arm, pushing to the back of his mind the fact that he had already spent money on a crib that would go unused.

He didn't care.

He also didn't hurry to get out of the baby section. Half an hour later, he bought a box of spaghetti, a jar of sauce, string cheese, three boxes of Little Debbies, and two onesies.

_Nine months_

"How you doing?" Tony asked for the eighth time since they arrived at the hospital a couple hours ago. He stood up from his chair and walked to Ziva's bed so he could grasp her hand. When she didn't answer, he said, "Hey. Ziva."

She turned toward him, and he saw that her face was pale, her eyes fearful. "What?"

"It's okay."

"I cannot do it, Tony." Ziva's voice was bordering on panicky, and he tried not to show it for her sake, but her being rattled was really freaking him out. "I just, I… I can't."

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Surrounded by machines and sheets, swimming in the hospital gown, Ziva looked especially small. He tried to calm himself down so he could, in turn, calm _her_ down, but he was having difficulties. Eventually, he just leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'll be here the whole time."

She started to sit up, then winced and placed a hand on her stomach as she lowered herself back down on the pillows. "Will you call Melinda?"

_Oh, jeez. _Was that woman coming to see the birth of their child, too? "Why?"

"To tell her I'm in labor. Use my cell phone. I have her number in my contacts."

Tony did as she said and went out in the hallway to make the call. When Melinda answered, she told him that she (still?!) had not placed the child. She said that she would be at the hospital the next day to discuss options, and at that point, he gave a terse "'bye" and flipped the phone shut.

0000000000

The evening became the night, and the night became dawn. Tony and Ziva both slept off and on, she in the hospital bed, he in a chair. Around six in the morning, Tony woke up from his current slumber to find his girlfriend's eyes drilling into the side of his face.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his chin self-consciously. "Do I need to shave? I didn't bring my razor."

To his horror, Ziva began to cry.

"Ziva, I'm sorry. I know, it was a stupid thing to forget; makes me wanna cry, too." Tony grinned uneasily, but Ziva just put her hands over her eyes. It looked like he wasn't going to be able to deflect his way out of this one. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do it," she sobbed. Did hormones reach all-time highs during labor? She had been moody for the past nine months, and she had cried a few times, but not like this. Tony watched helplessly as she made awkward, stunted movements, as if she wanted to hug her knees to her chest but then realized she couldn't because of the belly and baby in the way. "I can't give birth to her and then let somebody take her away."

_Oh._

Every time Ziva had declared that she couldn't "do it," Tony assumed she meant labor, but that wasn't it. Of course not. Compared to some of her life experiences, giving birth to a child would probably be a piece of cake. It was giving up the baby.

_She really, seriously didn't want to give up the baby._

"You don't have to, Ziva," Tony said, trying not to get his hopes up as he rubbed her back. "I can call Melinda right now and tell her she doesn't need to come."

"How do you still not understand?" Ziva shrieked, her head snapping up so she could glare at him. "I _have_ to. It is my duty to my daughter, to let her be raised by somebody who is not a murderer, an ex-assassin." Just as quickly as it had come, the anger seemed to melt from her body, and she simply looked defeated. "I feel that I cannot give her up, yet I must."

_How can she feel this way about herself?_ Tony wondered, looking at Ziva, his partner and world. With a deep breath and the feeling that if he was going to save his family, it was now or never, he leaned down so that they were eye to eye. "Do you really feel that you haven't changed at all since coming to NCIS?" he whispered urgently. "Because I don't. I have watched from the desk across from yours as you broke out of that Mossad mold and became _you_. _That's_ the person I know will be raising our daughter. You. The real you, who is loving and gentle and good with kids and perfectly capable of raising one."

Ziva just looked at him. Her face wasn't showing any response to his little speech. One last idea popped into his head, and he darted over to the chair where he had thrown his duffel bag. He unzipped it and reached inside, then pulled out one of the baby outfits he had purchased. Hiding it behind his back, he walked back to the bed and said, "I have something for you."

"Tony," she said exasperatedly, but then he pulled it out and lay it in her lap. She looked at it, lifted a finger to stroke an embroidered flower… and then started crying all over again. Tony wasn't exactly sure what these tears meant, but judging from the way she reached out and wound her arms around his middle, he thought they might be good.

0000000000

Three hours later, a cluster of nurses and doctors stood around the foot of Ziva's hospital bed, two of them standing to the sides to hold her legs. Tony stayed by her head, stroking the hair off her face. After every push, she stared up at him with wide, hurt doe eyes, and he wanted to make it go away. He wanted to make all of her pain go away.

"One more, Ziva!" a nurse yelled. "One more should get her out!"

"Come on," Tony murmured, using his shirt to wipe sweat from her forehead. "You can do it, Ziva."

With a deep breath, Ziva gritted her teeth and pushed. A second later, the nurses cheered and a shrill cry filled the air. Tony craned his neck to see his little girl as they went to clean her off, and when he looked down at Ziva, she, too, was completely transfixed with the baby.

A nurse soon brought her over, bundled in a pink blanket. As Ziva took her, Tony noticed that her arms were shaking, and he reached out to hold them steady. That was how he ended up sitting behind her, arms around mother and child, chin resting on Ziva's shoulder.

"She has your face," he murmured.

"Your eyes," she replied in the soft, maternal voice he had known all along that she possessed. And then her lower lip began to quiver and she whispered, "Precious."

Tony loudly kissed her on the cheek, encouraging her but forcing himself not to become excited. She had spent months insisting that she would not take the baby home; her changing her mind today was too good to be true. Ziva cradled the baby, stroking her soft skin and tufts of hair, and he just watched her. Them. It was a sight he would love to see every day.

Another nurse came into the room, one who had not assisted in the delivery, and smiled at the new parents. "A woman named Melinda Anderson is here to see you. Would you like me to send her on back, or ask her to wait?"

Ziva's grip on the baby tightened, and she looked at Tony, almost as if she were asking for permission. "Do you think I can do it?" she asked quietly.

_Can keep her. Can be a mother_. That's what she meant. He dared to let his heart lift a little bit. "I've been telling you the whole time that you can."

"I really… do not think I can hand her over."

And even though this was a musing more than anything, Ziva didn't protest when Tony took a mile from the inch he'd been granted by instructing the nurse, "Tell her to scram."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, look, I'm back! Because… apparently, I just can't leave anything alone.**

**So this is going to be a longfic now. I'm twelve chapters in, but not very far along in the plot… so. This thing's gonna be pretty lengthy.**

**Hope you like it!**

Ziva had one foot in the bedroom and the other in the hallway, and she was staring off in the direction of the baby's nursery. The look etched into her face was unreadable. Concerned, Tony turned off the TV and tossed the remote aside as he sat up in bed. "Are you okay?"

"I made a mistake."

His stomach dropped.

"Ziva," he whispered, standing up and walking over to take her in his arms. She refused to look at him, and she also did not return his embrace. "Listen. It's only been a week. We're both overwhelmed and exhausted, but it was the right thing to do. We're gonna figure it out."

Shaking her head, she said, "In the hospital, they handed her to me and… I didn't want to give her to anybody else. I went along with your decision, forgot all the reasons I shouldn't be a mother, because I was selfish. But just now, Tony, I looked right into Angelina's eyes and it came back. How she deserves so much more than me."

With a shaky breath, he bowed his head, looked down at their feet. This was the first time she'd started on this since Angelina was born; he really thought it was over. He really thought they were going to be a family.

"Perhaps I should call Melinda again."

Just like that, his nightmare reappeared

"No," he said quickly, maybe a little harshly, grabbing her hand desperately. "Don't do that."

Ziva placed a hand on his arm and stroked his skin with her thumb. "You are capable of raising her," she said. "I would never object to that."

Grasping her fingers and squeezing them tight, he begged, "Can't we just try this a little longer? You and me together? _Please_."

She exhaled hard through her nose. "You do not need me here."

"Yes, I do. I need you, and I need her. All I want is to have both my girls under the same roof. Is that too much to ask?" Tony's voice steadily grew more anguished; Ziva seemed concerned for him.

Odd. Because he wasn't really the one with the problem here.

Then she said, "No. No, it is not. We can try, Tony." And it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but at the same time, he registered the lack of confidence in her voice.

0000000000

What exactly did trying entail? Tony wasn't sure, because after that, Ziva became distant- from both of them, but especially from the baby. Whenever she fed or rocked Angelina, she did so while staring elsewhere, as if her mind was also in an entirely different place. There was very little interaction between mother and child that wasn't strictly necessary, and he found himself spending twice as much time with Angelina, trying to make up for it.

It was during this time that he became extremely attached to her, even more so than before. She was a little ball of sweetness and warmth curled into his chest or on his shoulder; really, he found her to be the most comforting thing in his life. Ziva didn't bring up Melinda again, and he was glad, because he would have had to put his foot down. Now that Angelina was here and he knew what it was like to hold her, that wasn't happening.

Tony methodically pushed out of his mind the consequences his determination could have for his and Ziva's relationship. They were already drifting apart, and that was hard enough; he couldn't bear to consider the possibility of a break-up. He focused on Angelina, on keeping her happy and healthy and loved, and ignored his growing resentment of Ziva's coldness toward their daughter.

There were a lot of thoughts and feelings of his that needed squelching if he wanted to keep his sanity.

For that very first week, everything had been fantastic. Tiring, but fantastic. They'd used the crib he'd set up, stood over it, watched her sleep. More often than not, they'd both gotten up when she cried in the middle of the night, and those tender moments in the dark nursery, just the three of them, were his favorites.

The atmospheric change was very abrupt.

Too quickly, they went from being a family to being a broken one.

0000000000

Gibbs had been surprisingly lenient with them in regards to settling in with Angelina; he'd said to take all the time off that they needed. When the baby was a month old, neither Tony nor Ziva had been back at NCIS yet, so it took him by surprise when she announced over dinner, "I am going to work tomorrow."

"Huh?" he asked stupidly, tomato soup dripping down his chin. "You are?"

"Yes. You will be okay with Angelina, won't you?"

He was too stunned to point out that he'd pretty much taken over the caretaking as of late. There was still furniture in his own apartment, but he had more or less moved in with her. Staying with the baby wasn't a problem, but he didn't understand why they hadn't discussed this before. "Are you sure you don't wanna take some more time?"

"I cannot be here any longer," she said.

Tony tried not to be hurt. After all, Ziva was very prone to cabin fever; she needed to do more than sit at home and make quick runs to the grocery store. It was just her personality.

"Okay." He shrugged. "Sure. Whatever you wanna do. Gibbs'll be glad to have you back."

Ziva fell silent and focused intently on her dinner, like it needed supervision.

"Ziva?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, but would not look at him.

Angelina wailed from the nursery.

Ziva kept eating, as if there weren't a baby at all.

Standing from his seat, Tony said unnecessarily, "I got it."

0000000000

Having Ziva out of the apartment was more a relief than he would have guessed. She'd been carrying an icy air about her as of late; when it was just Tony and Angelina, the apartment felt warmer and more comfortable, and sometimes he could almost convince himself that everything was okay.

Not even a week had passed, however, before Gibbs showed up at the apartment in the middle of the day. First Tony was confused, and then terrified. "Is Ziva okay?"

"Yeah. She's at the office. I wanted to catch you when she wasn't here."

The two men went into the living room. Tony took Angelina from her carrier and asked Gibbs if he wanted to hold her. Gibbs settled her into the crook of his arm and admired her for a second before getting to the point of his visit. "DiNozzo, what's up with Ziva?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she showed up on Monday completely unannounced and wouldn't answer anybody's questions. McGee asked how the baby was and she snapped at him. She's not herself."

Tony rubbed his forehead. He'd been holding onto this notion that Ziva was acting more normal at work than at home and that eventually, it would transfer over. Clearly that wasn't actually the case. What now? What could he possibly do to fix this?

At this point, sharing with Gibbs didn't seem like the worst idea. He was completely lost.

"She's always off in her own world. Doesn't make eye contact, doesn't… she barely holds Angelina. At first she was completely enamored and then she told me out of nowhere that she was gonna call that damn social worker… I talked her out of it, but she hasn't been the same since."

Gibbs glanced at the baby dozing in his arms. "She spent the entire pregnancy doubting her ability to be a mother."

"Yeah."

"And her hormones are still out of whack. It's not uncommon for new mothers to feel a disconnect from their babies."

"What about me? Is there supposed to be a disconnect from _me_?" Tony tried to remember the last time she returned his kiss or curled into his side the way she used to so readily. "You can't tell me this is normal."

"Not normal. But I'm not calling it abnormal, either."

He wondered about Gibbs' personal experiences in this area, but asked a different question out loud. "So what do I do?"

"Wait it out."

"You think that'll be enough?"

The shrug was not all that reassuring. "Guess we'll find out."

0000000000

Tony made a valiant effort to wait it out, but he could only be passive for so long before he felt that it was essential to take some sort of action. He started creating excuses to leave the room so that Ziva was forced to be with Angelina. "Will you finish feeding her? I gotta use the bathroom," he would say, and when he returned she'd be holding the bottle to the baby's lips. She never said no, but she never said yes aloud, either.

He also tried to draw her back to him. Even though they were sharing a bed, they'd taken to staying on opposite sides of it, and he didn't like that. Once he made up his mind to try and change it, he stuck to his guns. Every night, he rolled over next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Ziva would stiffen, but relax when she realized he wasn't going to try anything. All he wanted was to hold her, and while she didn't exactly snuggle into him, she allowed the embrace.

"Love you," he'd whisper in her ear, because she never said it first anymore and he needed a reassurance.

"I love you too." She never neglected to say it back, voice devoid of emotion. In those moments, the words were enough; he would take what he could get.

They were walking on eggshells and growing pretty skilled at the balancing act. But, inevitably, the shells did shatter under the weight of the household tension.

Movie nights were something he'd tried to embed into the weekend routine, since he and Ziva had made a habit of it after they started dating and before becoming parents. Plus, it was never too early to start Angelina's cinema training. Her eyes were too young and sensitive to be exposed to the TV, so he would turn her toward him and let her listen. Based on the parts she fussed during, he could already tell that she was going to grow up to be a famous critic.

On this night, their first movie was drawing to a close and when Tony looked at the clock, it was only eight-thirty. "Wanna watch another?" he asked Ziva.

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Here." He went to transfer Angelina to Ziva's arms. Before he could, she recoiled, staring as if the baby was an abruptly drawn weapon.

Before he had the chance to process what had just happened, she hissed, "Do. Not. Give her to me."

"What? I was just gonna change the disc-"

"Then take her with you! I cannot take her!"

Tony was confused. She was just sitting there. Why couldn't she hold the baby for ten seconds?

And then he saw the wildness in her eyes. It was much worse than the empty look those eyes had held for all these weeks.

"Okay," he said slowly, reaching out in an attempt to placate her. "I got her, Ziva. It's okay."

"It is _not_," she snapped, standing abruptly and brushing past him. He couldn't bear to watch her walk away; he closed his eyes, held Angelina close, and allowed the slamming of the bedroom door to resound in his mind.

0000000000

That was the last he saw of Ziva until he put Angelina down for the night and headed to bed himself. When he knocked on the bedroom door, there was no answer except for a faint sniffle.

Part of him wanted to give up and go sleep on the couch.

The majority of him could never let this go, so he pushed open the door and walked to the side of the bed where she was curled into the fetal position. "Ziva," he said gently, skimming his fingers across her cheek. "Ziva, please. Talk to me."

She released a great sob, as if she'd been holding it, building it up. Finally, she was showing feelings again, but this wasn't what he wanted. Seeing her this way was hurting him. Without thinking it through, he sat down and shifted her head into his lap. Only when he threaded his fingers into her hair did he realize that physical contact might not sit well with her right now, but she turned over and buried her face in his stomach. He felt her shoulders shaking and his shirt becoming damp with her tears and fought his own urge to break down.

"Tell me what's the matter," he said.

Ziva shook her head against him. "You will not understand."

"Try me."

A fist closed around one of his sleeves. She began to shake even harder. Tony rubbed her back and neck. "It's okay, baby."

"It… is not… okay," she insisted once again, and those were the only words she could be moved to say.

Helpless, he watched her cry herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the dramatic end to that one ill-fated move night, they immediately fell back into their usual pattern. Ziva went to work five days a week and Tony stayed with Angelina. While Ziva's physical presence still did not equal a mental one, Tony's worst fear- that she could consistently refuse to hold the baby- did not come true. Just as before, she did so when necessary. No more, no less.

Gibbs kept in contact with Tony and said that even though the whole team was worried about Ziva, he hadn't divulged to them what was going on. Tony was grateful; more and more, he was beginning to feel like this was _his _failure. He should have been able to do something for his family, for the two people he loved the most. Whenever he went back to work, he didn't want to face the others and see pity in their eyes.

Talking to Ziva about it was risky. "You do not understand," was her standard reply when he tried to breech the subject of what the _hell_ was going on, and then she either ignored him the rest of the night or started to cry. Neither of these results was desirable. He stopped asking.

Obviously, it had to do with the fact that from the day she found out she was pregnant, she had lacked faith that she could be a good mother. But for a very brief period, it had seemed like she felt comfortable in her new role; why had it changed so quickly? And so drastically? Was this a fluke? No. The week when they were all in domestic bliss… _that_ was the fluke. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe he was just an unobservant idiot who couldn't tell when something was wrong.

So she never _really_ stopped feeling unworthy, but they still had the baby; Melinda's name hadn't come up again. It was as if Ziva didn't want to give Angelina away, but also didn't want to become attached.

This was the line of thinking that led to a new, intense fear, one that made Tony's gut clench: maybe Ziva wasn't planning to stick around.

0000000000

The next major incident didn't come until Angelina was nearly six months old, but it had been brewing for a while. Ziva had grown tenser and tenser throughout the preceding weeks; like a storm cloud on the horizon, her dark, brooding moods had loomed over everybody, just waiting to release its torrents.

It was the middle of the night and silent in the apartment. Tony was back in bed after getting a glass of water and checking on Angelina; Ziva appeared to be sound asleep. He scooted over to her, rested his head on the unoccupied half of her pillow, and shut his eyes. There must have been at least a little bit of dozing, because that was the last thing he remembered before a scream next to his ear cut through his hazy consciousness. He jumped, bolted upright, and only then did he realize that Ziva was thrashing beside him, caught in the clutches of a nightmare.

"Ziva!" he said loudly. Even after he repeated it several times, she did not awaken, and now she was choking on sobs, a terrible noise coming from her throat. He winced when he did what he had to do: give her a solid slap across the face.

Her eyes snapped open and he couldn't even get out an apology before she screeched, "I killed her! I killed her, I killed my baby…"

His blood ran cold, and not because he thought she would ever do such a thing. Of course she wouldn't. It was because, by the anguish on her face, he could tell that there had been images in her mind that nobody should have to see- even worse, she believed she was responsible for them.

She continued to sob, "My baby, my baby." When he reached for her, she pushed him away, and it became necessary for him to use more physical force. He straddled her and sat on her stomach and held her wrists down beside her head. She was heaving beneath him. Trying to calm her, draw her out of the darkness, he leaned over to kiss her hair. "I just saw her. She's fine, Ziva."

As if on cue, Angelina began wailing; the ruckus had awakened her. Ziva sagged with relief and closed her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, to God or the universe, he figured. "There she is."

"Yeah," he said, a little shakily. "Hear her going at it? Those lungs have never been healthier." Tony watched Ziva carefully as he climbed off of her, but there were no more flailing limbs. "I'll bring Angelina in so you can see her, okay?"

"Do not bring her to me. Stay with her in the nursery." Ziva sat up, grabbed a pillow and spare blanket, and handed them to him.

"What?" he asked, befuddled. "I don't need to do that. She usually sleeps through the night now-"

"Protect her," Ziva commanded, "from me."

0000000000

Unsure of what else to do, Tony did spend the rest of his night on the floor beside Angelina's crib. He awoke early, even before the baby, to the sound of Ziva moving around as she prepared for work.

She was going to work. She was acting like this was just a normal day.

Less than five hours before, she had been breaking down because of a dream that she killed her own daughter, and even after she awoke the fear that it could actually happen had persisted.

This was absolutely _not _normal. If normal was the sun, then this entire situation was Pluto.

He rose from the floor, groaning as his back popped, and peeked into the crib. Angelina looked peaceful, oblivious to the turmoil around her. It was silly, but he was jealous; he wished he could live in a state of ignorance, too.

But he was all too aware of what was going on, and he suddenly had an idea, so he leaned over to pull Angelina out of her crib. She began to whine, displeased with her sleep being interrupted. "Sorry," Tony whispered as he lay her on the changing table. "We gotta go for a ride."

When they came into the kitchen, her in a fresh onesie and him in jeans, Ziva was pouring coffee into a travel mug. She furrowed her brow as Tony grabbed the baby carrier, plopped it on the table, and started strapping Angelina into it. "Where are you going?"

"Work with you."

"Excuse me? You cannot bring her."

"Why? 'Cause it's against agency policy, or because you don't wanna be around her?"

Silence met his words, and he knew he'd gone too far. The look on her face was that of someone whose heart had just been shattered. Tony shook his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did." Ziva sighed, turned off the coffee maker, snapped the lid onto her mug. With her back still to him, she said, "I know I act indifferent toward her. I know it is not right."

This was the first time she had acknowledged her behavior as anything out of the ordinary, and it was so good to hear because she sounded more like Ziva and less like the person who had taken over her body. He took a moment to savor it, then walked over to stand in front of her. "I'm going to work with you because you've gotta talk to Ducky about this."

"Tony-"

"Ziva, this is a _problem_. If you won't talk to me, I think he's the next best option. Do you have a better idea?"

She averted her gaze but said nothing.

"Okay." Exhaling slowly, he dared to reach out and stroke her hair once. She leaned into his hand, which surprised but also encouraged him; his fingers became tangled in her ponytail. Then she stepped forward and put her head on his chest and he actually wanted to cry because she hadn't done that in so very long.

The air in the car on the way to NCIS was thick and wrought with tension. Nobody spoke; even Angelina seemed to understand that it was time for quiet. When they arrived, Tony parked where he always did in the garage, falling right back into that habit as if it'd never been interrupted. And then, of course, it was he who grabbed the baby from the back and held her on his hip as they trekked across the concrete to the elevator.

"I need to go upstairs first," Ziva said once they were inside.

"No." Tony hit the button for autopsy, and their descent was already in progress before he realized how forceful he'd just sounded, forceful enough to keep her from protesting. This, he thought, was either impressive or scary. Probably both.

When they arrived at the Duck pond, Tony offered Ziva his hand and she took it, albeit very reluctantly. He craned his neck, ensured that the room was devoid of both dead bodies and Palmer, before going in. Ducky looked up from his paperwork. An expression of pleased surprise crossed his face- he, along with the rest of the team (minus Gibbs), had not seen Tony or Angelina since visiting the hospital right after she was born. "Well! Hello!"

"Hey, Ducky," Tony said as the older man ambled over. "How's it goin'?"

"Good, good. Long time no see, Anthony. And you," he said to Angelina, "have already grown rather big!"

Before Ducky had the chance to go off on a tangent, Tony took a step backward. "Hey, Duck? Ziva has something she wants to talk to you about. Me and Ang are gonna wait out here."

"Oh," he said. "Certainly, my dear. Let's go sit at my desk…"

The autopsy doors swooshed shut behind them, leaving Tony alone with Angelina. He sat down on the floor, put her in his lap, and dug around in her bag for a toy. "I like this guy," he said, pulling out a small stuffed dog. Angelina giggled when he pressed it against her cheek, then took it in her tiny hands. While she entertained herself, he stared at the opposite wall and tried not to think.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Ducky emerged alone, looking troubled. Tony sighed and stood, leaving Angelina to play on the floor. "So, uh- she tell you all of it?"

"Yes, she did."

"The nightmare?"

"Yes."

"What- what's going on, Ducky?" Tony asked desperately, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand it and I don't know what to do. Please, just tell me you have an idea."

"That I do," Ducky confirmed, but by the look on his face, those ideas were not what they would hope for. "Her initial trepidation at becoming a mother has manifested itself into a perception which has taken root in her mind- the perception that she is a danger to Angelina. Although last night was the first time she actually had a vision of doing such a thing, Ziva has been living in constant fear of harming her baby for a while now."

Tony sighed, crossed his arms. He watched Angelina and tried to fathom how Ziva could ever think herself capable of hurting that little girl. "She didn't tell me."

"She is trying not to think about it. That's why she has been distant- both to ensure she doesn't have the opportunity to hurt Angelina, and to keep her own pain away."

"How can I help her? How can I make her see that… that she loves Angelina too much to do anything like that?"

Ducky hesitated.

"What is it?"

"I think, Anthony, that you should be aware of the risks involved here. Postpartum depression… can cause normally stable women to become extremely unstable in ways that could prove dangerous."

"What are you saying?" Tony demanded, trying not to get pissed off at someone who was only trying to help. "You aren't accusing her of-"

"I am not accusing Ziva of anything. We _know_ that she loves her daughter, but mood disorders can cause us to lose full awareness and control of our actions. If she were to become overly stressed and Angelina was in close range, it's possible that Ziva would attack her before even realizing what she was doing."

Tony pressed his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the horrifying image now painted in front of them. "Tell me what to do."

"I very highly recommend therapy."

"She'd never agree to that."

"This is a time when you need to insist on it. Don't pressure her too much, but do be persistent. This could go away on its own, or it might not. In any case, she really should be examined further. And you also need to monitor her."

"Okay," he said, resigned to fighting the impossible battle, and glanced at the closed autopsy doors. "What's she doing?"

"She, ah… needed a moment to compose herself."

Tony sighed deeply, feeling a thousand years old, and squatted down beside Angelina. "Should we go get Mommy?" he asked. The baby made a sound similar to a huff and turned away. He met Ducky's sympathetic gaze. "We'll give her another minute."

**I forgot to tell you guys- I did make some revisions to chapter one and two of this story. Nothing terribly drastic, but one kind of important thing at the end of chapter two- Ziva did not ultimately make the decision to keep Angelina. It was Tony.**

**Okay, yeah. Just thought I'd clue you in. Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

It was later that night, when Tony was lying in bed and watching Ziva slip into her pajamas, that he finally gathered the courage to ask, "How are you?"

She turned around, brow furrowing as she twisted her hair up into a messy bun. "Hmm?"

"Talking to Ducky… did it… help?" That wasn't really what he meant, but words were failing him at the moment. It was the best he could come up with.

Ziva's jaw tightened. "I think… that I am beyond the point of help."

Which really wasn't ideal, but still, she was talking about it. With him. She seemed mentally present. And that was good. Because if Ducky was right… if she was so out of it that it was possible for her to hurt Angelina…

He sat up, reached out, took her hands in his. Ziva reluctantly shuffled forward until she stood right beside the bed. "That isn't true," he whispered. "We can fix this, Ziva."

"You cannot fix _me_. Nothing can undo… _nothing_ can undo a lifetime of tainting."

He shook his head emphatically. "Don't call yourself-"

"I _am_ tainted," she interrupted. "I have accepted it, Tony."

He couldn't, though. Because yeah, she had been through a lot of shitty stuff, and it had its effects on her. But that wasn't the end of it; she had _survived_. She had blossomed into someone who could claim to reign victorious over all the trials life had to offer.

If only she could see that.

Before he was able to begin explaining this, Ziva dropped the bomb he'd been expecting for a while now- still, only when the words left her lips did he fully realize how hard they were to hear.

"Maybe it is time to discuss my departure."

"No! Ziva, no." He pulled her forward until she sat between his legs; he wrapped his arms around her and held her close enough to feel her heartbeat. He needed her here so bad. So damn bad. "You don't have to leave."

She cupped his cheek and cocked her head. Sorrowful eyes met his. "Tony, I am scaring myself."

"Ducky suggested therapy, didn't he? Try it. Just try it once." Tony rested his forehead against hers. In that moment, he fully felt that _she_ was here, _his_ Ziva, the one who had all but disappeared as of late. He felt her in the grip around his waist and the breath mingling with his. When he kissed her, she kissed back, and it was as if there had never been a rift between them.

"I want to try," she murmured into his mouth. "I don't _want_ to go away."

"Then don't."

More kisses. Clothes shed. Soft reassurances. And for that night, at least, he had hope.

0000000000

The next morning, he woke up alone. For just a moment, he feared that she'd left after all, but then he heard her voice.

From the nursery.

She was in the nursery.

He couldn't think of the last time she'd gone in there, and for some reason, her being there now made his heart flutter nervously. After pulling on some sweatpants, he padded down the hall and peeked through the open door.

Ziva was holding Angelina. Rocking her. Talking to her.

It was really freaking him out.

"Hey," he said, doing a pretty good job of sounding casual. She smiled and motioned him inside. Tony walked over, ran his hand over Angelina's head. "What you guys doin'?"

"She woke up. I heard her and was going to have you get her, but I, um… decided to do it." Ziva almost looked embarrassed, as if she didn't have the right to come hold her own baby. Then he remembered: she _didn't_ think she had that right.

"I'm sure she was glad to see her momma," he told her, watching warily as Ziva transferred Angelina to her other hip. Most of him was relieved that she had taken some responsibility for their daughter, but he was also very unused to it, and it seemed somewhat strange. "Want some breakfast?"

"Mhmm." She started to leave the room, taking the baby with her.

Tony recovered from his shock long enough to ask, "Hey, did you change her?"

"Yes."

"Oh." And then he did notice that, yeah, Angelina was wearing something different than what he'd put her to bed in. "G- cool." He almost said "good job", as if she were a child. Ziva didn't notice, though; she just kissed him quickly and left.

Tony stayed where he was and held his head in both hands while he stared at the ceiling. To the empty room he muttered, "I don't know what's happening."

0000000000

That entire day was just like the ones before Ziva declared that she'd made a mistake. Maybe their lovemaking, that sharing and releasing of pain, restored some of her faith in herself. Maybe allowing him to be _with_ her again had reminded her that she was not alone. And maybe she'd even remembered that Angelina was a product of how deeply in love the two of them once were.

They ate scrambled eggs and took turns spooning peaches mixed with formula (yuck) into the baby's mouth, and then they lounged around all day, watching movies and playing with Angelina. It was terribly unproductive and pretty much the most wonderful thing he could imagine at that point.

The best part came after a dinner of Lean Cuisines, when Ziva stretched out on the couch and planted her head in his lap. Right before she drifted off, she, completely unprompted, said that she loved him.

Tony stared down at her for a long time, his fingers tangled in her curls, the movie on TV fading into the background. The complete normalcy of the day was, ironically, not normal at all, and he didn't know where to go from here. Was this a permanent change? Another fluke?

_Fluke,_ he told himself, because that's what he _needed_ to think. He couldn't allow himself to be naïve and believe that this ordeal was over, like he had before. That idiocy had set him up for nothing but disappointment and anguish.

As great as that day had been, he needed to remember that it was over. Whatever realizations she may or may not have had last night wouldn't necessarily affect her tomorrow. He was going to take this day by day and monitor her, just like Ducky said.

And on the off chance that his voice would find its way into her dreams, he leaned down and whispered next to her ear, "Stay with me, Ziva."

0000000000

Ziva's interactions with Angelina remained hesitant, but there were a lot more of them for the next few days. When she returned from work in the evenings, Tony made a point of giving her Angelina to hold, and she did so. He watched them carefully and never found any reason to be worried; rather, Ziva seemed to be taking a greater interest in her daughter.

Then her nightmare returned.

She cried out in the three a.m. darkness, jarring him awake, just as before. He managed to wake her without physically restraining her. When he opened his arms, she refused to go into them and demanded that he check on the baby. Tony went, came back, and announced that Angelina was fine. Only with that reassurance did Ziva allow him to hold her as she cried.

The hollowness in his heart was more pronounced than he would have liked, since he'd told himself to expect this. But maybe nothing could prepare someone to watch the woman he loved suffering, to know she had visions of killing their daughter.

In the morning, he called the hospital.

0000000000

"Relax, Ziva," he muttered, his voice nearly drowned out by Angelina's nonsensical babbling.

Ziva wasn't beside him and the baby. There was a seat between them, and she was looking off in the other direction. Tony could see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness of her jaw. Even though she'd agreed to at least one session with this therapist, she clearly wanted to be here less than he did. Which was saying something.

"Do you know this woman?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then how did you find her?"

"I called your OBGYN."

She nodded. Her emotionless eyes flitted briefly to Angelina, who was snuggled against Tony's shoulder, and then focused elsewhere. The repeated "ba-ba-ba-ba" and the tapping of the computer keys by the receptionist seemed terribly loud in the nearly deserted waiting room. A door opened down the hall and voices started drifting out to them, but it was a couple more minutes before a tiny woman and a much larger man emerged.

The woman- the therapist, Carolyn Miller, he guessed- set up an appointment with her patient and told him to have a good day. After he'd left, Carolyn turned toward them and smiled. "Ziva?"

Ziva stood slowly. "Hello."

_Way too cheery, _Tony thought suspiciously, watching the shrink shake his girlfriend's hand enthusiastically. _Kinda like Melinda._

But when he had his hand pumped, he looked into Carolyn's eyes and saw understanding. Sympathy. And it unnerved him, her knowledge of his family's struggle, the fact that she was about to get knee-deep in the details.

Ziva and Carolyn were off before he could say anything more than "hello". As they disappeared behind the office door, Ziva looked back at him over her shoulder, and he gave her a halfhearted thumbs-up.

The next hour passed way too slowly for Tony's liking. He tried not to think about how the session was going, and for a while Angelina kept him distracted. But then she grew fussy and he lay her down in the carrier, where she fell asleep. _Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap_ went the computer keys, right along with the _boom-boom-boom-boom-boom _of his heart. It was odd; his thoughts, his worries, seemed so loud to him, but the baby was dozing and the receptionist was working and they were both unaware of the fact that he was quietly going crazy.

At long last, Ziva emerged from Carolyn's office. Tony immediately stood, scanning her face, but found no clues as to what had happened. He opened his mouth but couldn't decide which question to ask first; instead, he watched as both women walked to the receptionist and spoke with her for a moment. Then Carolyn handed Ziva a slip of paper and said, "See you next week."

Ziva nodded and walked over to Tony. She picked up Angelina's carrier without being asked to. In a tired voice, she said, "Let's go home."


	6. Chapter 6

Despite constantly hinting that he'd like to be clued in, Tony was never able to get Ziva to talk about her therapy sessions. Even the nonchalant "How was it?" always went unanswered except for a shrug. It drove him crazy- what the hell did they talk about? Did the shrink think there was hope here? Did _Ziva_ think there was? These questions chased each other through his mind, but there was no way to get them answered if Ziva didn't want to talk; besides, he could see for himself that there were no real changes in her behavior. She was back to being extremely distant with both Tony and Angelina, and the nightmares persisted; he was spending more and more time sleeping on the floor of the nursery at her request. Still, it was manageable, and although McGee and Abby called Tony more than once to ask if Ziva was alright, he told them that she was. He grew so good at pretending that even he was almost convinced.

Almost. Because she had a way of bringing him back to reality.

Between the nightmares and therapy and working with Gibbs to ward off Vance when the director threatened to end Tony's paternity leave, he felt drained and stressed out. His baby, while quite a bit of work herself, was the light in the dark tunnel that had become his life. Already he felt like she was growing up too fast; she'd started crawling combat style, scooting across the floor on her tummy, which was simultaneously hilarious and nostalgia-inducing. She also liked to say "da-da" now. Whether it was her version of "daddy" or just a fun syllable, he didn't know; still, he had to grin every time he heard it.

A month passed. Two. And then Tony made the mistake of asking Ziva to accompany him to Angelina's nine-month checkup.

It was an attempt to include her, and it seemed pretty inconsequential. In the waiting room, she read a magazine while he rocked the baby carrier with his foot; when the nurse called them in, she followed a step behind, then watched quietly as Angelina's height, weight, ears and eyes were checked. None of this was particularly bothersome; it was exactly what he'd come to expect from her. Once the nurse had left and they were waiting on the doctor, though, he sidled up next to Ziva. Laying a hand on the tense muscles of her back, he said, "How you doing?"

"I am fine."

He moved in front of her so that she had to look at him. "Hey, listen. What do you say… tonight, we put the baby to bed early, and then we can make dinner and watch a movie. Like a little stay-in date."

She leaned into his touch a little when he caressed the side of her neck, which he took as a good response to the first romantic gesture he'd made since they slept together three months ago.

Angelina began to fuss. Before Tony had the chance to go to her, Ziva did. It happened quickly, but also in slow motion: one hard step toward the baby. A strangled cry, perhaps of horror. And then she turned and fled the room.

He stared at the door for several seconds after it slammed shut, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. The baby cried louder, drawing Tony out of his daze. With shaking hands and a pounding heart, he changed her dirty diaper. He didn't know where Ziva had gone, but he felt a pressing need to go find her. In her mental state, who knew what she'd do?

_Don't think that about her, _he chastised himself. Still, as soon as the doctor came in, Tony dashed out with a promise to be right back. Something told him to take the stairs instead of the elevator, so he pounded down them until he almost tripped over somebody sitting outside the entrance to the second floor.

"Sorry," he panted, and then, "Ziva? _Ziva_."

Ziva looked up at him. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she was clutching them, as if for dear life. He sat down beside her, immensely relieved, all but forgetting that he was supposed to be going back to the pediatric wing.

"What happened back there?" he asked softly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "I do not know. Something is wrong with me."

"Nothing is _wrong_-"

"Yes, it is," she snapped at him. "Something is not right when… when you have to run away because you can _feel_ that something bad is going to happen. That you are going to hurt your own baby. I did not mean to step toward her at all, Tony… it was out of my control." Her voice started to waver. "I love Angelina. There is nothing more horrifying to me than the thought of hurting her… yet I am so afraid that I will." Sadly, brokenly, she added, "There are plenty of people in this world who would say that I am capable of it."

Saltwater was gathering behind his eyes, and no amount of blinking would make it go away. _Those people don't know you like I do,_ he thought, but now the tears were creeping down his cheeks and he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat. In the end, he was the one being held, the one burying his face in a shoulder, the one being told, "I am sorry. I am so sorry."

0000000000

They eventually pulled themselves together enough to leave the stairwell. Tony went back to the exam room where he'd left Angelina. The doctor had some questions about her habits and development, some instructions about what to look for in the next three months, and then the checkup was done. "Miss Angelina is perfectly happy and healthy," he declared.

The opposite of her parents.

Ziva was waiting in the lobby and immediately fell into step beside Tony when he approached. In silence, they walked to the car, and he kept sending her sideways glances, trying to read her mind. Either she didn't notice or she ignored him. Had he not known better, he never would have guessed that she'd been upset just half an hour earlier; she seemed completely composed now, her head held high. It felt _off_, as if a change he wasn't aware of had occurred.

Like so many previous nights, that one was quiet except for the scrape of forks on plates and Angelina's testing of her voice box. The only real sentence Ziva said was, "I would feel better if you slept in the nursery tonight," and he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he'd been planning to, anyway.

0000000000

Something is wrong when he awakes in the morning, and it's not just the stiffness from sleeping on the floor. Once he's popped a few bones, he stands slowly and peers into the crib. Angelina is on her back, breathing evenly and soundly. All is good there.

Tony heads down the hallway, glancing at a clock on the way. It's only seven; Ziva should still be here. He calls her name as he enters the kitchen, but nobody answers.

A white piece of paper lays on the table. "Bet Gibbs called them in early," he mutters, walking over to pick it up. It is indeed a note from Ziva, but it doesn't say what he expects.

_Tony-_

_I wanted to make a clean break, something I used to be terribly good at, but I seem to have lost that ability somewhere along the way. There are so many things I could and should have said to you, but it is too late now. All I need to say here is this:_

_I have gone because you and Angelina, the two people I love the most, do not deserve to be caught up in the things that haunt me. Over the past nine months, I have been moody, withdrawn, and not the kind of mother or domestic partner I should be. Yesterday, when I moved toward Angelina without knowing what I was doing- that was the scariest moment of my life, and it diminished any hope I had of being able to change. Here is what I want from you, then: I want you to forget me. I want you to find a good woman, marry her, give Angelina a mother… have a family, Tony. Be happy. That is my wish for you and for our daughter._

_Please try to understand why things had to be this way._

_Love,_

_Ziva_

His first thought is that it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever read in his life, because she is telling him to have a family even though he already has one. He has a child and he has a soul mate, and now…

And now, the full gravity of the words on the page hits him hard, and he practically sprints out of the room.

**Okay, so… I feel like I owe several of you an apology, haha, because last chapter you commented on how things were looking up… and now, clearly, that is not the case. I totally did not mean to grossly mislead you like that. Please don't hate me, and please- I will beg- keep reading. I am really, really enjoying this story and the direction it's headed in. : )**


	7. Chapter 7

Tony exits the elevator and strides over to his empty desk like a man on a mission. He sets the baby carrier down beside his computer screen.

"What're you doing here?" McGee asks.

"Where's Ziver?" Gibbs wants to know.

Figuring that it's a good enough answer to both questions, he pulls Ziva's letter from his pocket and hands it to Gibbs. His boss reads through it quickly. "McGee, search Ziva's cell records."

"Uh." The junior field agent's hands freeze above his keyboard. "Is everything-"

"No, everything's not okay. She's gone, Tim. Search her damn phone."

Cringing, he does so, both Gibbs and Tony peering over his shoulders. When the records load, he says, "No outgoing calls since the day before yesterday. She was here that day; those were to Gibbs. Several incoming calls half an hour ago-"

"Those are all from me," Tony interrupts. "The last one went straight to voicemail, like she'd turned the phone off. See if you can find it. Maybe she turned it back on."

McGee pulls up his GPS software and enters her number. All three men wait anxiously. CANNOT LOCATE flashes across the screen.

"Bank records," Tony orders. "She'll have to go get gas at some point."

"Your kid wants you," Gibbs says, pointing to Angelina. Only now does he realize that she is chanting "Da-da-da-da-da." He goes back over to her, looks down into her face. Ziva's face.

"Shh," he whispers, shaking the rattle attached to the carrier by a string. Her blue-green eyes fixate on it and she quiets. When he holds it out, she grabs it greedily.

Gibbs swears loudly. Tony turns and finds that McGee is even paler than usual. Before he has the chance to ask what (else) is wrong, McGee tells him. "She emptied her checking. There's not a cent in there. And, Tony… she's got a savings account. Or she did. She went in this morning and put it under your name."

0000000000

A little more digging reveals that not only is Tony $30,000 richer, he is the legal tenant of _two _apartments. The teller at the bank says that Ziva was waiting outside the front doors when they opened, then seemed to be in a rush while she was doing the paperwork necessary to hand the money over to Tony. Her landlord gripes that she'd pounded on his door at five a.m., demanding to change the name on the lease. This is all discovered by Gibbs and McGee, who then report their findings to Tony. With every new piece of information, he grows more dazed, because it's sinking in that she actually _left_. Not only that, but she erased her entire D.C. existence- or, rather, she tried to. She appears to have forgotten that there are still _people_ here who want her with them.

It comes to light that, as the bank hadn't opened until six and Tony estimates that he woke up around six forty-five, Ziva had either been in town or not far outside of it at that time. McGee is the one who makes this connection and states it aloud, surely not expecting Tony to throw a punch at a file cabinet. Ignoring his sore knuckles, he then walks around fuming because he came to NCIS when he should have been out looking. Maybe he would have gotten lucky. Maybe he would have found her.

But that ship has sailed. It's too late now. For all he knows, she's on a plane to Israel.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs barks. "Take a walk. Calm down."

He wants to say _no_, that it's not freaking possible to calm down, but instead he motions toward Angelina. His boss says, "We got her."

Feet that don't quite feel connected to his body carry him down to Abby's lab. The thumping beat of her techno music is especially headache-inducing today; luckily, she switches it off as soon as she sees him.

"Tony! Hi! It's been, like, forever!" She throws her arms around his neck; he weakly returns the embrace. "Where've you been? _How_ have you been? Is Ziva here?"

He goes ahead and answers the last question. It'll have to happen sometime. "No."

"Oh!" She draws back. "Why not? Where is she?"

Tony can't look at her. "I dunno."

"What do you mean, you don't know? How can you not-" Abby gasps and grabs his shoulders. "She's been acting so weird. Oh my- has she, like, disappeared? Has she left?"

He nods and lowers himself into a chair. Almost immediately, he's being squeezed again, and Abby is asking more questions, but he doesn't comprehend or answer any of them. He stares at the floor.

"Can I do anything?" Tony sighs, but offers no other response. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is surprised that her ability to think straight hasn't flown out the window alongside his. "Okay, I'm gonna go ask Gibbs if there's anything to do. I'll be right back."

Tony stays where he is, completely lost as to where to go from here.

Sometime later, Abby returns to the lab, Gibbs in tow. "How could Ziva _do_ this?" she asks incredulously. "I mean, how? Is she just that selfish, or-"

"Abs." Gibbs cuts her off, nodding at Tony.

But Tony has begun to follow her line of thinking. "I told her constantly that I was gonna help her. Maybe she just found it easier to run off-"

"Hey," Gibbs snaps, holding up a hand. "Both of you. Stop. DiNozzo, pull out that letter."

As the boss man appears pretty pissed, Tony obeys.

"Now reread that and tell me she's selfish."

Reluctantly, he lowers his eyes to the wrinkled paper. The words slice through his heart more sharply than the first time.

_There are so many things I could and should have said to you._

_I want you to forget me._

_Be happy._

Gibbs bends over to be eye level with Tony. "Doesn't it say that she loves you and that baby?"

It does. There are some feelings breaking through his daze, and they aren't pleasant ones. "So what? That's supposed to make it okay?"

"No. It's not okay. And it wasn't the right thing to do." He puts a hand on the side of Tony's head. "But it was for the right reasons."

"We gotta find her," Tony says. "We can do that, can't we?"

Deep, sad sigh. Gibbs drops his hand; it slaps limply against his thigh. "Listen. Trail's gone cold. Me and McGee are still working on it, but Ziva wants to disappear, and she knows how to make it happen."

"I still don't believe this," Abby, who has miraculously kept quiet this whole time, wails. "Can't we put out one of those alerts for escaped mental patients?"

"She's not a mental patient," Tony snaps.

"I just meant 'cause she's not thinking straight-"

He jumps out of his chair, seething, and Gibbs immediately steps between them. Keeping a grip on his senior field agent's shoulder, he speaks lowly and seriously. "Don't turn on each other. We can't do that. Now's the time to stick together."

Tony closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Tries to slow the pumping of adrenaline throughout his body. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Abby says quietly. He feels her grasp his hand. "Sorry, Tony."

For once, Gibbs doesn't tell them not to apologize.

0000000000

By mid-afternoon, everybody has migrated to the bullpen. Gibbs, McGee, and Tony sit at their respective desks. Ducky and Palmer stand beside the big screen. Abby sits in the floor, playing with Angelina.

Everybody pointedly steers clear of Ziva's deserted desk.

All avenues have been explored, and they are out of ideas. Tony feels defeated, exhausted, and like it's time to face reality.

This isn't going to be like the last time he lost Ziva, when he drank himself into oblivion and could only be placated by a suicide mission to Africa. Now, there's somebody else who needs him, and he will not let her down.

He stands from his desk, prompting all heads to swivel towards him, and walks over to Abby. Angelina grins at him, and he scoops her up.

He still doubts his ability to do this alone.

He still fears incompetence.

He still is unsure whether consistently seeing this child and her similarities to Ziva will make him go crazy.

He tells his little girl the one thing that he _is_ sure of.

"It's just you and me, Ang."

**Um… hi. :D I feel like I should write something here, but that's all I got. Hi. And maybe, review? And thanks for reading. :P**


	8. Chapter 8

The apartment doesn't seem all that quiet when Tony and Angelina return, since he has long been accustomed to Ziva's brooding silences. It definitely feels empty, though. He leaves Angelina on the coffee table in her carrier, then goes into the bedroom and takes a quick survey. Because he left in a rush this morning, this is the first time he notices that both Ziva's side of the closet and her dresser drawers have been completely cleared out. Just as he's wondering how she transported all those clothes and shoes, he discovers that two large suitcases usually kept under the bed are also missing.

"Congrats, Ziva," he sighs. "Looks like a pretty clean break to me."

He lets the bed skirt fall from his hand and goes back into the living room. Angelina has fallen asleep, but he really doesn't want to put her to bed yet. Instead, he sits down on the couch, lifts her from the carrier, and settles her into his lap. The warmth of her little brunette head against his stomach is soothing.

Just as she needs him, he needs her, too.

0000000000

Tony takes one more week off work so he can deal with the lease (Ziva probably thought it would be easier on him to stay in her apartment, but he doesn't want to. Too many memories, including bad ones. It takes a flashing of his badge and gun, but the landlord agrees to let him move out in a month.) and find a daycare for Angelina. On the day he goes back, he gets out of his cold bed as soon as the alarm sounds and puts on a suit he hasn't worn in nine months. His belt has to be drawn tighter than it used to be, and when he looks at himself in the mirror, he realizes that all his stress has resulted in lost weight.

Up until now, he hasn't shed a pound since his college basketball days.

Angelina is in a good mood. She chatters happily the entire time he is dressing her, feeding her, driving her to the daycare, and he can't stop thinking about how much he _doesn't_ want to leave her there. Too soon, he is parking the car and opening the door to the backseat.

"Ready?" he asks as he slings the diaper bag over his shoulder and starts unbuckling her from the car seat. He puts her on his hip, and she uses her new vantage point to curiously observe her surroundings.

Tony has been attached to Angelina since she was a zygote, but he doesn't expect the feeling of dread that settles within him as soon as they enter the daycare center. _She's_ the child; she should be the one clinging to him, not the other way around. This fear he has of relinquishing her, as if she's going to disappear, too, is irrational and he's a little embarrassed that he feels the need to use a baby as his shield.

He finds the room labeled '6 to 12 months' and opens the door, expecting to be assaulted by a chorus of screams, but that is not the case. Instead, he finds a scene of tranquility in which ten or twelve babies appear to be quite content. One of three women in the room sees him and walks over with her hand extended. "I'm Nancy," she introduces herself. "This must be Angelina."

"That's her," Tony says, attempting to sound nonchalant. He allows the strap of the diaper bag to slide down his arm and into his hand. "Uh, all her forms and stuff are in there."

Nancy opens the bag and pulls out the bundle of papers inside. She reads over them, then smiles at him. "Looks good. We're all set."

That's his cue that it's time to go, he guesses. He doesn't allow himself to look into Angelina's face while he kisses her forehead and hands her over. The second she leaves his arms, he hears a sniffle and a little whimper and _damn it, _she's gonna make him cry, too.

"Your daddy will be back before you know it," Nancy coos. To Tony she adds, "This will pass. She'll be just fine."

"Okay," he mutters, and forces himself to leave despite the increasing volume of his daughter's wails.

Work is tough. Every time he lifts his head, his eyes land on Ziva's empty desk and way too many memories, emotions, and questions pop into his head. He's angry, but still worried. He wonders where she is. Maine? Texas? Tel Aviv? What's she doing? What is she _planning_ to do?

Gibbs and McGee are eerily quiet. This is not unusual on the former's part, but the latter usually has something to share, even if it is often ignored. Other agents don't bother trying not to stare when they pass by, and Tony gets so many sympathetic expressions leveled at him that he's starting to wonder if anybody around here ever works or is too busy with the gossip. Then again, can he really blame them? If he were an outsider to this drama, he would probably find it interesting, too.

There comes a time when he feels like he'll choke unless he gets out of the bullpen, so he grabs a dollar bill and heads to the break room. He is staring at the vending machine, considering whether to get mini donuts or barbeque chips, when Gibbs appears beside him.

"Hey, Boss. Want something?"

"No."

Tony finally settles on chips. As he bends to retrieve them, Gibbs asks, "Tony, how are you doing?"

He means to reply with a 'fine'. Really, he does. But what comes out instead is a bitter laugh. "My girlfriend ran off and left me alone with our kid. But, you know, she gave me thirty grand," he adds sarcastically. "That makes up for it."

Gibbs sighs, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Tony cuts him off. "Don't say anything _nice_, okay? If I see one more person with 'that poor sap' written all over their face… if Abby offers one more time to bring me food…"

"I was gonna ask if you realize what a big responsibility this'll be," he interjects gently. "Being a single parent."

Caught off guard, Tony furrows his brow. "I've _been_ a single parent."

"But she was working. And now you're doing that, too."

Tony drops his unopened bag of chips on the table and takes a step forward, suddenly feeling defensive. "Look. I failed Ziva, okay? Fine. But I'm _not_ going to fail Angelina. Her mother abandoned her; her father won't."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs snaps. "_I know that._ You're a good dad." Tony feels like he needs a second to wrap his mind around that compliment, but he doesn't get it. "Just… I've closed people off when I needed them the most. Don't make that mistake. We're here for you."

He inhales deeply, holds his breath, exhales. "Okay, Boss." Pause. "Thanks, Boss."

Trusting isn't the easiest thing for him right now; after all, he never thought Ziva would leave him. Back before this all began, before she accidentally got pregnant, they were together and they were happy. Just like any relationship, it had its ups and downs, but it was steady. They often spoke of a future together, of someday getting married and having a family. It was Ziva who expressed the greatest desire for children, which is tragically ironic- she did get the baby she wanted, but she had apparently not foreseen the problems that began the second she found out she was pregnant.

Tony hadn't foreseen them, either, and now here he is. The woman he thought would be his wife, the woman who already is the mother of his child, has vanished. He's tempted to guard the heart Ziva has shattered, but he knows Gibbs is right. Now more than ever, he needs his team.

So later that day, when Abby asks once again if he'd like some lasagna, he gives her a hug instead of an answer.

**Thank you all for reading! Happy NCIS day tomorrow!**


	9. Chapter 9

The time comes to move out of the apartment, and Tony takes a few days off to do it. Packing up what he needs to transport to his place doesn't take long at all; it's really just clothes and Angelina's stuff (including her crib, which is a bitch to disassemble). By the end of the first day, he is done with all this, and there is only one major task left: getting rid of Ziva's belongings.

He's never noticed before, but there's a _lot _of them. All she took with her were her clothes, shoes, wallet and keys; there are still books, hair products, and whole grain breads here. In a way, he doesn't want to get rid of anything, but that isn't an option. The reason he's going back to his own apartment in the first place is because he can't deal with reminders of her.

Two painful, angst-ridden days later, her things have been donated to a homeless shelter. All that's left to do is drag her furniture down to the curb. He takes Angelina to daycare, and when he returns, he moves the smaller pieces alone. Gibbs and McGee show up in the early afternoon to help with the bigger ones: the kitchen table, the couch, the bed. Sweet memories of late nights tangled in the sheets overshadow any bad associations with that bed; he doesn't realize he's staring at it until Gibbs loudly prompts, "DiNozzo?"

He forces himself to get a grip. All that is over. Done. In the past. "Just trying to figure out the best way to move this thing."

0000000000

"Welcome home," Tony tells Angelina as they enter her new room. Really, it looks exactly the same as the one at Ziva's apartment- creative he is not. But she seems glad to be back in business after sleeping in a bassinette for several nights; she spots the area where he's set up her toys and points to it.

He sets her on her feet, holds her upright for a second. "Wanna see if you can walk?"

Angelina remains standing after he lets her go, then tries taking a step. She falls to the ground with a grunt and opts to crawl.

"Not yet, huh?" Tony laughs a little. "That's okay. We'll get there." His phone vibrates, and he answers without looking at the caller ID. "DiNozzo."

"Hi, Junior."

"Dad?" he asks, taken aback. The two of them stay in better contact than they used to, but those conversations are still few and far between. It's been nearly a year now; the last time his father called, Ziva was eight months pregnant and insistent that the baby be put up for adoption.

Because of that, Tony had neglected to mention it.

"Just thought I'd check in. How are you doing? How's Ziva?"

He considers lying again, but wonders how long he'd be able to keep up that charade. There isn't much time for contemplation before Angelina holds up a block, yells something, and makes the decision for him.

"What was that?"

"Uh… okay." Tony runs a hand through his hair and leaves it there. "Okay. That was… Ziva had a baby."

"Your baby?"

"Yes, my baby." Even now, the implication that she would cheat offends him.

His father pauses to process this. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"What's her name?"

"Angelina. Angelina Gabrielle."

"Beautiful," his dad says, and Tony is surprised at the sincerity in the word. "Congratulations, Junior."

"Thanks."

"So, how _is_ Ziva? Will you two be getting married?"

Tony traces his teeth with his very dry tongue. _Shit._ There's really no way around this one, but the news about the baby had apparently not been as shocking as he'd thought it would be-maybe this won't be earth-shattering, either. Treading carefully, he constructs a story that is as close to the truth as possible without getting into the details. "Actually, Ziva and I broke up."

_Now_ there is stunned silence. And then: "What?"

"Yeah, it… it's complicated, but long story short, it was ugly. So, uh… I have custody of Angelina. And Ziva… will visit sometimes."

There is so much hesitation in this sorry excuse for a cover that he winces and waits for his dad to call his bluff. Instead, he hears a sad sigh. "I'm sorry to hear that. You know I liked Ziva."

"You liked hitting on her."

"No," his dad says slowly. "That's how I act with every woman. Mostly, I liked her because she'd be good for you."

Pursing his lips, Tony turns his head toward Angelina, watches her carry on happily.

They really had been good together.

Father and son both fall silent until the former sighs once more and says, "You're in the same situation I was in. Left to raise a child by yourself. I think you'll handle it better than I did."

_I know I will. _Tony swallows these words and says, "Thanks, Dad." Despite the bitterness of his thoughts, he _is_ grateful that one more person has faith in him.

0000000000

"Why didn't you wrap anything?"

"She's _one_," Tony says, pointing to whom they speak of. Angelina is immersed in one of the birthday presents she received from her father, a jack-in-the-box. Every time the puppet pops up, she screams in delight. "I don't think she cares much."

Abby huffs and gestures to the elaborately wrapped gifts she brought. "At least her aunt knows the meaning of fun."

"I'm sure she's grateful." Tony sits back in his chair and watches Abby flit around his kitchen. She has single-handedly planned this party; the decorations, pizza, and cake are her doing. Nobody else has arrived yet, but she claims that everyone, even Breena, is coming. It's apparently going to be quite the deal.

As Abby starts laying silverware on the table, she asks, "Is this weird for you? To think that a year ago, Ziva was here and- well, I mean, she was here until three months ago, but to think that it's been exactly 365 days since you guys had a baby-"

"No, it's not weird," he interrupts.

"It would make me feel weird. Looking at Angelina is like looking at Ziva; doesn't that make you miss her more?" She sighs, straightens the forks and knives. "I really do miss her. I miss her coming down to the lab for lunch and hearing how she kicked someone's ass… and if _I_ miss her this much, I can't even imagine how you must feel."

Things like this are really starting to wear on Tony. He thinks he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to talk about Ziva, but either he hasn't or others can't take a hint. Dwelling isn't going to help him move on, which he _has_ to do. Because yeah, Angelina does look a lot like her mother, but he's not going to be able to raise her with his sanity intact if he thinks about things like that.

"It's fine, Abby."

"It is not _fine_!" she cries, startling him and causing Angelina to look up from her toy. "How can you even say that? She's your soul mate!"

He notes the use of the present tense rather than the past. Abby's eyes well up and she puts a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry," she says. "This should be a happy day, and I'm bringing up not-happy things…" She crosses the room and scoops up Angelina, hugs her close. "Do you forgive me?" she asks the baby.

Tony manages a slight smile. "Again, I don't think she minds."

"Good. The birthday girl can't be sad!" The doorbell rings. Abby turns toward Tony, her expression sorrowful. "Tony, I really-"

"Don't worry about it," he says, feigning nonchalance. _Do you ever think about soul mates?_ Now he does. And he doesn't especially want to. "I'll get the door."

Abby hands him the baby as he walks by. His heart softens a little bit at the affectionate way his friend trails her hand down the back of Angelina's head. This, he decides, is the reason Gibbs doesn't give Abby head slaps: she's impossible to stay mad at.

It's his boss standing at the door, bearing an unwrapped, child-sized wooden rocking chair. Abby emerges from the kitchen, sees it, and groans, "Do men just have something against wrapping paper?"

McGee, Ducky, Palmer and Breena all arrive within the next half hour. Pizza is served, Tony blows out the candle on the cake because Angelina is uninterested, and then they gather in the living room to eat. Angelina is walking by now, if haphazardly, and she toddles from adult to adult with her new toys in tow. When it's Breena's turn, she gets on the floor to help with the wind-up duck, and once it is waddling across the room she looks at Palmer. "We need to get on this baby thing."

Gibbs glances at Tony, seemingly the only one who notices the stricken look on his face. Tony shakes his head to relay that he's okay, even though the sight of Jimmy and Breena grinning at each other makes him feel like he's been punched in the stomach. It's been a while, but he and Ziva used to look at each other like that.

_Damn, _he misses her, and he's missed her for a long time. Ever since she stopped being herself.

Eventually, Angelina putters out and goes to her father, holding out her arms until he lifts her into his lap. She curls against him with a yawn. The others soon take their cues from her and begin filtering out one by one, and Tony is surprised to hear McGee remark that four hours have come and gone. This day has a bit of a sour taste, but these people have actually managed to alleviate some of that. He wants to thank them but doesn't know how, so he thanks them for Angelina's presents instead.

Ducky is lingering in the armchair. Tony looks expectantly at him several times, but the doctor averts his eyes in a rare display of avoidance and something like uncertainty. He actually waits out Abby's drawn-out departure in which she exits and reenters the apartment three times; Tony thinks that shows incredible perseverance. Once the door has remained closed for longer than twenty seconds, he shifts Angelina onto his shoulder and says, "How's it goin', Ducky?"

"How are _you_, Anthony?"

His tone implies that the question is not to be answered with the standard "fine". Is Tony the only one around here who subscribes to the theory that ignorance is bliss? "I'm dealing."

Ducky leans forward, his eyebrows hiking up his forehead. "In what way?"

"I… you know. Just pluggin' along."

"And trying to forget?"

His neck heats up, and not just because of Angelina's hot breath fanning it. Tony shakes his head and meets the older man's sympathetic gaze. "What else is there to do?"

"Remember," Ducky says quietly. "Remember and seek to understand. Come to terms with what's happened."

Using the hand not supporting Angelina, he rubs his eyes. He wishes he were anywhere but here. "Ducky, I'm tired. I'm exhausted. You know what sounds really good lately? Hibernation. Those bears have got it made."

"Your daughter would miss you if you went into hibernation," Ducky says with a gentle smile. "You are already halfway there, Anthony. If you continue attempting to dissociate yourself from the world, it will not be long before you are completely closed off."

"That's not happening," Tony says firmly, stroking Angelina's wispy hair. "I'm gonna be here for her."

Ducky studies the two of them for several moments. Then he starts to stand, but changes his mind and sits back down. "Simultaneously pretending you have moved on from Ziva and staring her child in the face every day will not end well. You must face it head on, or it will consume you."

Thinking back to how he couldn't even tell his father the truth about the end of his relationship, Tony wonders if there is truth in this statement. He exhales through his nose. "How do I face it head on?"

"It isn't difficult," Ducky says. "All you have to do is stop fighting."

**Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! And thanks to everybody for reading! I'm grateful for each of you!**


	10. Chapter 10

Tony tries to stop fighting.

Whenever he sees Ziva in Angelina, he forces himself to keep his eyes on her rather than look away. He makes observations such as, "That's your momma's smile," and feels as if he's shared something with his daughter despite the fact that she has no comprehension of his words.

He searches for things in the apartment that hold some sort of reminder of Ziva, but since his coping strategy had initially been to get rid of every object attached to a memory, he doesn't find much. At work, he goes through her abandoned and now frequently avoided desk. Mostly there are files, pens, office supplies. In fact, the only personal belongings he finds are in a bottom drawer: hair clips, bobby pins, deodorant, a copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Tony picks up the book and flips through it. A piece of paper falls from between the pages and drifts into his lap. When he turns it over, he is unprepared for what he sees: it is a picture of Ziva and Angelina, clearly taken during that first week. The good week. The newborn is sleeping in her mother's arms, and Ziva gazes at her with tired yet warm eyes.

Tony drops the photo like a hot potato. Her image invites a strange bout of déjà vu, because there were things that happened in this spot and at this same time of night, after the bullpen's lights have gone down and most other agents have left.

_Well, then I am grateful to have someone in my life who is just as romantically dysfunctional as I am._

It was about a year later that the two of them began toeing the line between friends and more, and it was here that he finally took the step that sealed the deal. Heart pounding, palms sweating, he had crossed to her desk and quietly asked permission to kiss her.

She didn't verbally grant it. Just wrapped her arms around his neck and met him halfway.

If he hadn't suddenly decided to stop running from his feelings, he wouldn't be sitting in this chair right now, because she would be. And he'd be across from her, and they'd be nothing more than best friends, and everything would be fine.

The feelings flooding him are exactly what he previously spent so much time and energy squelching. He's tempted to do it again, but remembers what Ducky said and closes his eyes instead. Soon there is a burning sensation behind his lids. He rests his head on her desk and allows the saltwater to overflow.

0000000000

"And that is Robert Wagner. He's younger in this movie, but nowadays he looks just like your grandpa. It's kinda freaky."

Angelina stares at him, unmoved, an unwilling participant in this film lesson. Then she climbs over his lap ("Oof") and reaches for the teddy bear at his feet. He laughs at her plump hand flailing in the air before he has mercy on her and grabs the bear himself. She buries her face in its fur.

"Are you giving your bear a kiss?" Tony asks. She presses it to his cheek and makes a 'mwah' sound. "Oh, your bear's giving me a kiss. Thank you."

With a grin, she cuddles against him. His arms find their way around her tiny body and he thinks back to the other night, the night he pondered the fact that all this could have been avoided. Why hadn't it occurred to him that 'all this' includes Angelina?

"I love you," he tells her. "I'll never regret you."

0000000000

Angelina's first Christmas, at four months old, had been a drab non-affair. There was a tree and there were (unwrapped) presents, but by the 25th of December, Tony had long given up on getting Ziva into the holiday spirit. He spent that morning echoing her silence and tearing through the packaging of brand new toys.

Despite the hole in their family and in his heart, he is determined to make sure that this holiday is not a repeat of the last one. He holds no illusions of it being perfect, but at Thanksgiving with the team he asks, somewhat shyly, if the others would mind getting together at Christmas, too.

Of course, Abby jumps on that and starts making plans right there in Ducky's kitchen. Tony glances around, unsure if she is speaking for all of them. Each of his teammates nods, and he is relieved, then ashamed for doubting that they would want to be with him and Angelina that day.

The fear of being left behind is always lingering in the back of his mind now.

He gets another tree, this one not dissimilar to the puny sprout in the Charlie Brown Christmas special, and sets it up in the corner of his living room. It is decorated with lights and no ornaments; he threw those out with Ziva's things. Still, it adds a certain element of cheer to the room, and Angelina enjoys waving her hands in front of the illuminated bulbs. She also doesn't mind when he attempts to make sugar cookies, fails, calls Abby to ask for help, and ends up with six batches of perfect iced snowmen. After listening to Angelina say "'umm" while chomping on the cookies and eventually having to take them away from her ("Nooo!"), he suspects that he'll be paying for some filled cavities in the future.

"Give me one of those," Abby orders as he walks by with the plate, and when he holds it out, she grabs two. "I did good."

"I helped," he says.

"All you did was turn on the oven. Your _kid_ was more helpful than you were."

Tony gapes in mock outrage. "What the hell did she do?"

"She handed me stuff! Well, not really the stuff I needed… still, she made a good effort." Abby gives a nod of finality, bites the head off of a snowman, and holds the body out to Angelina.

"No," Tony says, plucking it from her hand. "She's had too many already."

Pouting, Abby snatches her cookie back. "Come on, _Dad_. Since when do you care about sugar intake?"

"Since I'm the only one around to make sure she doesn't get sick."

Both of them lapse into a surprised silence at the words than have fallen from his mouth, but Tony refuses to let it drag on too long. "You can give her _one_-" He holds up a finger to emphasize his point. "One more bite. I don't want her on a sugar high at bedtime."

With a victorious grin and quite a bit of fanfare, Abby presses another bit of cookie into a grasping hand. Then she surveys the plate Tony has placed on the counter and the cookie sheets cluttering his kitchen table. "You've got enough to last until Christmas."

He collapses into a chair, suddenly realizing that he's been on his feet for four hours. "Hope so. I'm too exhausted to make any more."

"You didn't actually make any," Abby reminds him. She sits down as well and ruffles Angelina's hair. Tony looks away as the unwelcome image of Ziva being here with them forces itself into his mind. And then he recalls past Christmases that they'd shared as a couple, those that preceded Angelina. There were only two, and during the latter, he's figured out, she'd been pregnant. But they hadn't known that until a couple weeks later; on Christmas itself, he presented _It's a Wonderful Life _and she taught him how to play dreidel and it was a good day.

As if reading his mind, Abby sighs. "I miss Ziva."

He doesn't hesitate. "Me, too."

"What are you gonna tell Angelina when she's older? About her mom?"

Tony's original plan had been to never mention Ziva, to keep her memory locked away in an off-limits portion of his heart. Since he's taken Ducky's advice and allowed himself to feel again, though, he's begun to wonder if that's a good idea. Doesn't Angelina have the right to know about her mother- and why she's no longer here? "I really don't know."

Angelina taps his knee. He looks down and she says, "'Kee?"

"No more cookies." He chuckles. "But maybe I'll teach you dreidel."

0000000000

Christmas Day with the team is fun and distracting and much closer to what Tony hopes Angelina's future celebrations will look like. They don't have a real dinner; it's a strange conglomeration of rolls, popcorn, leftover Halloween candy ("Really, McGee?"), and, of course, the snowman cookies. By the time everybody goes home well into the evening, the floor of his apartment is covered in wrapping paper and empty paper plates, but he feels satisfied, like he's accomplished something.

It's not until Angelina is asleep and he has crawled into his cold bed that his mind drifts to Ziva. He wonders where she is tonight, what she did today. He wonders how often she thinks of them.

He wonders if she ever considers coming back.

After an indeterminable amount of time, he turns onto his other side and opens the top drawer of the bedside table. He can't see anything, but he fumbles in the dark until his fingers fold around the edge of the letter she left, the letter he hasn't looked at since they stopped searching for her.

He takes a moment to brace himself, then flips on a lamp and unfolds the crinkled paper. It is not sacred; every member of the team scoured it for clues on the day she disappeared. They have all read it over and over again. But as he scans the words now, he feels as if this is a private conversation he's having with her, as if she's foreseen his questions and has provided responses.

_Why did you do this?_

_The two people I love the most do not deserve to be caught up in the things that haunt me._

_What am I supposed to do without you?_

_Have a family, Tony, and be happy._

_What if I never stop loving you?_

There is no answer to that one.

He reaches the end, starts over, and now it is Gibbs' voice that he hears. _Reread that and tell me she's selfish. Doesn't it say that she loves you and that baby?_

A tear appears on the paper, causes the ink in an _a_ to run, before he even realizes it has fallen. Tony puts the letter down and cranes his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Damn it, Ziva," he sighs. "I don't regret you either."

**Thanks for reading. I love reviews. And you guys, of course. :P**


	11. Chapter 11

**I decided to update a day later than originally planned so everybody could spend Wednesday in their happy little Tiva bubble :P Oh, that episode. The entire thing was amazing, the plot, every character… but the Tiva. That, I have yet to recover from.**

**ANYWHO. This chapter really isn't that sad. No, really. I promise.**

**Enjoy!**

The terrible twos come in like a lamb, but it isn't long before that gives way to the lion. At first, Tony congratulates himself on his parenting, mistakenly believing that he's avoided this dreaded stage of toddlerhood; then Angelina pitches a tantrum unlike anything he's seen before, and he knows it was only delayed.

She's been somewhat grumpy and weepy lately, but he figures she isn't getting enough sleep, starts putting her to bed earlier, and expects that to fix the problem. Then that first major tantrum erupts at Wal-Mart, apparently out of nowhere. Angelina has been walking beside Tony when she suddenly stops in the middle of the freezer aisle and refuses to go any further. He tries being nice and he tries ordering her to move, but she repeatedly yells, "No!" and presses her body against one of the cold glass doors. Abandoning his cart, he goes back and picks her up, prompting a loud scream. He rocks her and she cries louder and he is struck with fear- she's not a baby anymore; he's going to have to learn some new tactics.

In the end, he leaves his half-full shopping cart beside the Popsicles while he carries his screeching child out of the store. A security guard tails him, but seems to decide by the time Tony reaches his car that this is not a kidnapping.

_If it was, _he thinks, _I would've given her back already._

After that, such incidents increase in frequency. Angelina starts throwing fits when she can't have a lollipop, at bedtime, when it's time to get up, and even when she's dropped off at daycare. She's never had a problem with daycare before, so Tony doesn't understand why she now winds her arms around his leg as he's walking out the door. A couple weeks of this leads him to worry that he has coddled her. He's pretty sure she never formed an emotional attachment to Ziva; maybe, in trying to make up for that, he's allowed her attachment to him to become unhealthy.

Now, he is slumps in his desk chair, recovering from another tiring morning. The probie, forced upon Gibbs by Vance, keeps sneaking glances at him, but he ignores her. Probationary Agent Juliet Richie isn't sure how to act around him; she knows who she is replacing. She has never made direct eye contact with the senior field agent, and he is in no hurry to change that. The massive amount of perfume she wears is hard enough on his nose; he doesn't need to observe the liberal use of eyeliner, too.

"Planning to do any work today, Tony?" McGee asks from behind his computer monitor.

"My two year old is kicking my ass."

"Rough morning?"

"The daycare lady had to pry her off of me. Again."

McGee pushes his chair back and turns toward Tony. "Maybe you should find a parenting class or something."

"I have a book."

"A book?"

"Yes, a book," Tony snaps. "You think I just magically know how to raise a kid?"

McGee holds up his hands.

"The book says it's a phase, but I'm not sure I'll be able to survive it. She used to be so sweet all the time, and now she's like…" He turns his finger in a circle next to his ear.

"Have you talked to Ducky about it?"

Tony squints. "No. Ducky's a psychologist; that doesn't make him an expert on little kids." Then he bites his bottom lip, remembers his concern about Angelina's attachment. The doctor probably _would_ have something to say about that, but he isn't eager to share another way in which he has screwed up.

Gibbs chooses that moment to breeze into the room, hollering for them to grab their gear, and then they gather in the elevator, where Tony puts aside his fatherly problems in order to absorb the details of a dead petty officer. When they reach the parking garage, their boss surprises them by ordering McGee and Richie to take the crime scene van while Tony accompanies him in the Charger. The walk to the car bears much anxiety for Tony as he tries to think of what he's done wrong, but it turns out to be for nothing. Once they've pulled out of the parking space, Gibbs looks over and asks, "So what's going on with Angelina?"

Tony is so surprised and relieved that he doesn't respond for several seconds. "Ang… I dunno. She's gone off the deep end."

To his amazement, Gibbs cracks a smile. "Not the deep end, DiNozzo. Thought you said you have a book."

"I do." He clearly eavesdropped on that whole conversation, but Tony can't summon the energy to be irritated. "It says it's normal and everything, but… I'm kinda worried that she doesn't want to go to daycare anymore."

_Brilliant. Tell _Gibbs_ how you screwed up. Much better option than Ducky. What the hell are you doing?_

Gibbs looks over at him. "Why?"

"Uh." No going back now. Those steely gray eyes are boring into the side of his face, and the ticking of the turn signal suddenly seems foreboding. "It's just… the book doesn't really say anything about this, but I've been thinking that she might be too dependent on me. Maybe I've been… overcompensating. You know. For Ziva being gone."

His boss starts laughing. Actually laughing. Tony is so terribly confused and borderline offended that it takes him a moment to form words. "What?"

"Don't give yourself so much credit. If it was an attachment problem, it would've shown up before now. She's being difficult. Testing the waters. Your kid is playing you."

"What?" Tony asks again, more incredulously. "She is not!"

"Trust me. I've been there. She is." Before Tony can think too much about that, Gibbs adds, "If you don't believe me, remember who her mother is."

And that is an excellent point.

0000000000

Perhaps because his guilt has been alleviated, Tony's patience with Angelina grows ever thinner. He is much more inclined to crouch beside her in public and hiss something along the lines of, "Straighten up right now or you're going to bed when we get home," than he is to ignore a tantrum. The parenting book, which he clings to these days, tells him not to make threats, but that's all he seems to do when people are staring. He feels like he has more control of his temper at home, away from judgmental _tsk_s and where he is able to step back and take a deep breath if needed. Admittedly, Angelina does respond better to him there, but he's not perfect and he isn't always able to keep his temper in check elsewhere.

One day, the dam breaks. She isn't even being _terribly_ objectionable, just repeatedly shoving her lunch across the table; the third time he starts to give it back to her, though, he changes his mind and takes it away instead. As she stares at him in shock, he yells words he can't recall two seconds later, then commands her to go to her room. It's all a blur, all out of his mouth before he thinks any of it through. Angelina slips out of her chair and scurries down the hall, and he covers his face with his hand, all anger turning toward himself.

This must be how Ziva felt, that one time she nearly lost control.

He waits in the kitchen for his gut to unclench and her loud sobs to subside. Eventually, he goes to stand outside her door. She is lying on the relatively new "big girl bed", clutching a stuffed giraffe and sniffling. When she sees her father, she rolls over so she is facing away from him. Tony sighs and comes into the room, sits awkwardly on the edge of the tiny mattress like a giant, bumbling ogre. "Ang," he says.

Angelina stubbornly ignores him. He extends a hand to stroke the soft skin of her forehead, over and over, until she looks up. "Will you come sit with Daddy?"

She regards his lap suspiciously, but does crawl into it, that giraffe still tucked under one arm. Tony dabs at her runny nose with his sleeve- there are so many things that he doesn't find gross anymore- and bows his head to her level. "I'm sorry I raised my voice, baby."

"Daddy mad."

The expression on her face is about as meek as he's seen it these past few months. He smoothes back her hair. "Daddy isn't mad at you. Sometimes I get… _frustrated_ when you don't do what I ask you to; that's all. Okay? Do you think you could work on that for me, and I'll try really hard to be patient?"

Even as she nods, tears form in Angelina's eyes. "No more crying," he says, tickling her tummy, and he feels victorious when she giggles. "That'll make Daddy sad."

"No be sad." She pats his cheek affectionately, much like her mother used to.

"Don't worry. I'm not sad. Listen, go wipe your nose, and then do you want your sandwich?"

Angelina hugs and kisses him, then slips down to the floor. "Uh-huh."

As she scuttles out of the room, he grins to himself.

He's learning.

0000000000

Three years have passed since Tony became a father, and he can't believe how quickly they have gone. The baby that Ziva held in her arms and declared "precious" now stands at thirty-four inches tall, knows her ABCs, and has transitioned from being consistently difficult to being just a bit of a troublemaker. In a way, she is like his little sidekick- or, as Abby once noted while watching him sip on a juice box, maybe he is hers. He made a face at the time, but it is true that he's consumed more apple juice than beer as of late; in all honesty, Angelina has unwittingly taken over his life.

And he wouldn't trade her for the world.

These days, he usually thinks about Ziva in the context of _What would she say if she were here?_ If she were here and she were herself, she'd be amused at the way Angelina "helps" him as he prepares for her party. She would also notice the tension in his shoulders and reassure him… although, now that he gives it more thought, that scenario would never exist. If she were here, Tony wouldn't have lied to his father about where she was, and he wouldn't be stressed out by the fact that Senior will be visiting in a matter of hours.

How to tell a man who is trying to make up for past mistakes that he can't come to his granddaughter's third birthday party? Tony had found it impossible to do… and he also found it impossible to tell the truth during that phone call. So here goes nothing: if nobody on the team slips, as he has warned them against, maybe he'll be able to avoid the details this afternoon.

The team does their part in keeping up the charade. Nobody mentions Ziva, not even Abby, and the jovial mood isn't forced. Between Palmer and Breena's two month old son and the chocolate cake and Angelina's endeavors, everybody is entertained and having a good time. Tony keeps an eye on his father all afternoon, but no questions are asked and no answers are offered- until the planets align and the two of them end up alone in the kitchen.

"Hey, Dad," Tony says nonchalantly, opening a cabinet and rooting around inside. "What's up? Ang seems to like you."

"I'm glad," his dad says. "She's a sweet girl."

He locates the spare batteries. "Thanks."

"She's, ah… the perfect blend of you and Ziva. Half and half."

Desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking, he picks up Angelina's new toy and starts loading the batteries into it, one by one. "Yeah."

His dad is walking toward him. _Not good._ "Junior… where is she?"

"What do you mean? We aren't together anymore; she lives… by herself."

"I know that. But it's her daughter's birthday. I figured you two would be able to set aside your differences so she could be here."

_Shit._

Tony puts the last battery in place and slowly sets the toy on the counter. He glances into the living room, establishes that nobody is paying attention, and then fixes his gaze on his father. "She left," he says quietly. "Early in the morning. It wasn't mutual."

"Junior, I'm sorry."

"It sounds like she abandoned us, but she didn't," Tony, for some reason, feels the need to point out. "There was some postpartum depression going on, made more severe by… other stuff she was dealing with. Not important now. When I told you she would visit sometimes… that was only about a month after she left, and I couldn't talk about it yet. She's out of the picture. I haven't seen or heard from her in over two years. Angelina has no idea who she is."

Getting it off of his chest brings an odd, unexpected sense of relief. Senior shakes his head sadly. "I suspected there was more to the story." He puts his hands on Tony's shoulders, which surprises his son. "You're doing a good job."

"How do you know?"

"I can just tell."

Before he can think of what to say, Angelina runs into the kitchen with something to show Tony.

"What is it?" he asks with the fascinated voice he's pretty much mastered, and catches his father smiling at the incessant rambling that follows.


	12. Chapter 12

**Just so you guys know, there's going to be a huge leap in Angelina's speech here, haha. This is supposed to be several months after she turned three, but all her dialogue from last chapter was from when she was, like, 26 months. So it's been about a year since the last time I gave her actual dialogue, and that's the period where children's speech starts developing rapidly. That's why the jump from "no be sad" to whole sentences.**

**Um… important chapter.**

**Just so you know. :P**

**Enjoy!**

"I don't wanna go."

Tony doesn't know what to say, because honestly, he doesn't want her to, either. When did his baby become old enough for preschool? He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and crouches in front of Angelina. Her eyes are brimming with tears. "I like daycare," she says, voice wavering. "I like Miss Amber."

"And Miss Amber likes you, but her job is to look after little kids. You gotta go to school like the other big kids." It's freezing out here; Tony would really like to move along, or at least continue this conversation inside. "Come on. Let's go check out your classroom."

He doesn't have time to stand back up before Angelina throws herself into his arms. "I don't wanna," she wails, and this is not her being bratty; she is genuinely afraid of this new place. Tony wonders if it would really be so horrible of him to bring her to work. She could spend the day coloring in the lab; Abby would love that.

However, Vance would not, and he knows that's only one of the reasons it's a bad idea.

"Listen, Ang," he says, pushing her back gently. "You'll have fun."

"No, no, I won't."

"Try it for me, okay? Try for me, and I'll take you for a treat later."

Angelina immediately perks up. "Ice cream?"

"If that's what you want." Never mind that it's _December_ and Tony can't fathom why she would choose that. Wind burns his face; snow is soaking his shoes and the hem of his pants. He tugs on one of the French braids resting on her shoulders. (Yeah. _French. _Teaching himself to do that from YouTube videos may have cost him his man card, but Angelina loves the hairstyle and, well, he's pretty damn good at it.) "Ready?"

"Uh-huh," she says, slipping her hand into his as he comes out of his crouch. When he leaves her in the classroom, she is teary again. She doesn't chase after him, though, and that's good. Because he's a little teary, too.

0000000000

Angelina is immersed in a Play-Doh project when he picks her up. She is happy to see him and excited to show off the lopsided purple wheelbarrow she has molded. While she's fetching her things, the teacher tells Tony, "She had a good day. I'm excited to have her; she's a sweetie. And smart. Did you know she can count to ten in Spanish?"

He nods, smirking. "We watch a lot of Dora." Angelina walks up, mouth twisted in frustration as she fumbles with the buttons on her coat.

"You button me?" she asks her father.

"_Sí_," he says, and the teacher chuckles.

They do go for ice cream. Not surprisingly, they appear to be the only people who've had this idea, so they and the girl behind the counter have the well-heated shop to themselves. Angelina tells him about her new school, and he is only half-listening until she says, "What's a mommy?"

Tony pauses, spoonful of hot fudge sundae hovering in midair, then swallows nothing but saliva. "A mommy is like a daddy who's a girl. You know that from your story books."

"Liliana said everyone gots a mommy," she says, completely oblivious to the fact that his palms have begun to sweat. "'Cause babies come outta mommies' tummies. But I don't gots a mommy. I comed outta Daddy's tummy."

Tony shuts his eyes, internally cursing this Liliana girl. How the hell is he supposed to 'be honest', the advice so often given by the parenting book, about this?

Angelina taps his arm so he'll look at her. Her chin is quivering the slightest bit. "She said I'm weird."

"Sweetie, you aren't weird. Liliana doesn't sound like she's very nice. Don't let her bother you."

"I comed outta your tummy?" she confirms.

"No," he says slowly, and her eyes get wide, and that's it. There's the decision, made for him. "No. You have a mommy, Ang, and you came from her tummy."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Tony looks into Angelina's face, so similar to her mother's. She's surprised, maybe excited. He's got to make sure there will be no crushed hopes here. "You'll probably never meet her, okay? But, um… the reason she's not here is that she loves you."

"Really?" Angelina exclaims it this time. There is absolutely no disappointment etched into her features. If anything, she's giddy. "Much as you?"

As he's quite the wimp these days, he blinks rapidly. "Yeah."

"That's a whole lot."

"It is," he agrees.

Angelina continues eating her ice cream, humming happily.

"But don't forget," he feels it necessary to remind her, "she's not gonna come to live with us."

"That's okay, 'cause Mommy loves me. She love you, too?"

Tony thinks of the letter stashed in his bedside table, his newly developed habit of reading it every night. "Yeah," he tells their daughter. "She does."

0000000000

"You did _what_?"

He glances from Abby to McGee and back again. "She was asking questions," he says defensively. "Was I supposed to let her keep thinking that men have babies?"

Just like the first time he heard that part of the story, McGee laughs. Abby swats him, then retrieves Richie's empty chair and yanks it over to Tony's desk. She settles into it and lowers her voice. "I'm worried about _you_, Tony."

"Why me?"

"Because now she's going to ask questions about Ziva. You'll have to keep… reopening that wound."

McGee meets Tony's gaze, clearly thinking the same thing he is. "Wound's been open, Abby," he says quietly. "She's everywhere. Here and at home… in Angelina. At first I tried to shut out the memories of her, but Ducky warned me that it wouldn't work, and he was right." He bites his lip. "You know, I think I'm happier this way."

"You seem happier," McGee notes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I mean, than you were in the beginning. I figured it was just that… time heals."

"Not really." He glances around, makes sure nobody can hear him except for his two teammates. "Wouldn't say I'm healed. There are days I don't think I'll be able to get out of bed. Sometimes, Angelina will wrinkle her nose or something, and she reminds me so much of Ziva that I get this physical pain in my chest. But we used to be good together, and Angelina should know that. She should know the good stuff about her mom."

Tony takes a deep breath and tries to gauge their reactions. He is waiting for Abby to get emotional or rattle off questions or both, but it's McGee who speaks first. "You're gonna paint her as a hero?"

He heaves a deep, exhausted sigh. _Too much thinking. _"Guess so. I'm not going to turn Angelina against her."

"She _abandoned_ you," Abby says, as if he could forget. "I know she thought it was the right thing-"

"Yeah, she did," he interrupts. "For now, that's all that matters."

The _ding_ of the elevator makes all three of them jump. Tony is glad to see Gibbs and Richie, and he doesn't even mind when the former starts barking commands. This conversation has left him feeling drained. He's shared enough for one day.

0000000000

"Ang?" Tony calls, pausing _Mulan_ as she dashes into the kitchen. "What're you doing?"

"Gettin' apple juice."

He thinks for a second. Then: "Will you bring me some, too?"

"Uh-huh."

Angelina soon reappears, bearing two small boxes. She hands him both so he can remove the attached straws and insert them in the top; when he gives one back to her, she says, "Thank you," and crawls into his lap. Tony restarts the movie and sips on his juice. (The stuff is good. Totally underrated. He can't believe how long he went without knowing that.) On screen, Mulan chops off her long hair, and Angelina's head is burrowed into his chest so that he feels her gasp.

"Daddy!" Angelina, horrified, is clutching her own beloved locks. "Why she do that?"

"So she can go to war," he says, "and try to save people." This part of the movie reminds him of Ziva- the nerve, courage, and determination possessed by the Disney character was always present in his partner. Briefly, he considers mentioning this, but decides not to. Better to let Angelina steer what she learns about Ziva.

And she certainly is curious. Toward the end of the movie, she looks up at him and asks, "Mommy a princess, too?"

"Ah… nah." Tony moves her braid behind her shoulder. "She's just as pretty, though."

Angelina grins. "I see her?"

A cold weight settles deep in his gut, and he shakes his head. "No, Ang, I told you… she's not gonna come here-"

"A picture," she says impatiently. "So I see how she looks like."

"Oh." Relieved, he kisses her as an apology- he may have sounded a bit harsh before- and moves her off of him. "Be right back."

Tony slurps his remaining apple juice and tosses the box in the trash as he walks into his bedroom. "Uh…" He inflates his cheeks. "Where'd I put it?" Then his eyes land on the bottom drawer of his dresser, and he flashes back to the frenzied moment during which he'd shoved the picture frame beneath those clothes he never wears. He gets on his knees, peers inside, moves a moss green sweater, and there it is. Inhaling deeply, he picks it up and turns it over.

Ziva. With a Paris street in the background.

That day… he'd been in a good mood that day. Waking up and finding that Ziva had somehow moved to his side of the bed and into his arms was just about the best scenario he never thought possible. For half of one blissful hour, he traced patterns on her back and ran his fingers through her hair. Then she woke up, and the second she processed the fact that she was draped over Tony's chest, she rolled away, blushing, and he fell a little more in love.

"Movie over," comes a voice from the doorway, snapping him out of his reverie. He smiles at Angelina as she comes closer and peers over his shoulder. "Ooh! That Mommy?"

"That's her." He lets her hold the picture, watches her pudgy thumbs skate the surface.

"She looks pretty."

"She does."

"I love Mommy," Angelina declares. Her eyes are sparkling when she asks, "And you love Mommy, too?"

Tony pulls her tight against him. "Yeah," he whispers into her hair, and he holds onto her until she wiggles away.


	13. Chapter 13

"I really think Wilson did it."

Tony levels his gaze at Richie. By now, they have managed to put aside the awkwardness that resulted from her taking his girlfriend's place- being teammates doesn't work all that well unless you can look at each other. He still doesn't care for that eyeliner, though. "Probie. Come on."

"He has a record."

"He stole a CD from a store when he was seventeen. That doesn't count as a record."

"What about Tanner?" McGee suggests.

Tony shakes his head and groans exaggeratedly. "You guys. Come on. It's _Eggleston_. He's the only one with good motive."

The current investigation is in its early stages, so nobody has any concrete evidence to prove their point. All they can do is stare each other down, unrelenting, until the silence is broken by Tony's phone. "Bet that's Abby calling to tell us that my guy's fingerprints were all over the murder weapon," he says, and makes a big show out of answering. "Talk to me."

"Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"This is Miranda Adams from Early Discovery Learning Center. I'm sorry to bother you at work, but Angelina threw up and she needs to go home."

_Ah, crap._ He glances at his coworkers, both of whom are watching him, and starts rooting around for his backpack. "I'm on my way."

"Who was that?" McGee wants to know.

"Preschool lady. Ang got sick. Where's Gibbs?"

"MTAC."

"Tell him where I went, and, uh…" Tony worries his bottom lip, considers his options. "I'd really rather not leave her with the sitter when she's sick."

Richie says, "Go. Stay with your daughter; we'll be fine," and he is surprised by her sincerity.

"Thanks," he tells her with an appreciative nod, the first time he can remember the two of them sharing a moment of comradeship. "Keep me updated. I'll do what I can from home."

At the preschool, the nurse is waiting for him. She ushers him into an office smelling of disinfectant and filled with pint-sized cots, one of which is occupied by Angelina, curled up on her side, face drained of color.

"She's running at a hundred and one," the nurse tells Tony. "She threw up three times in a ten minute span. Nothing else since then."

Now that he can _see_ her looking weak and miserable, Tony grows more concerned. "Is she okay?" he asks quietly. "She looks awful."

"Stomach bugs spread through here like wildfire," the nurse says. "She should be fine in a few days."

Angelina stirs, flips over to her back. She blinks a few times before registering her father's presence. "Daddy," she says fuzzily, "I feel icky." Her hands clutch her tummy and she begins to cry. "It hurts."

"Hey, baby, it's okay. We're gonna fix you up." He picks her up carefully and settles her onto his hip. The partially dried vomit on her shirt, he realizes too late, is getting on his thousand dollar suit.

"Here's her stuff." The nurse hands him the backpack featuring Dora and Diego, and he slings it over his free shoulder. "Feel better, Angelina."

She grunts.

Tony smiles apologetically. "Thanks."

Angelina's head lolls into his neck while he carries her to the car, and once she is buckled into her car seat, her chin falls to her chest. "Are you awake?" he asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Look at me."

Slowly, she raises her head. He looks into her eyes. They aren't dilated. Just tired. "Hang in there." He starts to ask for a kiss, but ultimately decides that he should wait on that one until after she brushes her teeth.

At home, both of them change: she into pajamas, he into sweatpants and an Ohio State t-shirt. He puts a glass of water on the coffee table, a bucket beside the couch, and wraps Angelina up in a quilt. She says, "I hot and cold," which doesn't make much sense; not knowing what else to do, he turns on the ceiling fan as well.

Angelina throws up four times while they watch _Finding Nemo_. He hates the retching noise, hates the tears flowing freely down her face, hates the way she pitifully begs him to fix it. All he can do is comfort her and, since he can't make the pain go away, create distractions from it.

Next he puts on _The Little Mermaid_, then wanders into the kitchen to find some dinner. The smell in the living room is not good for his appetite, so he leans on the counter to eat his macaroni and drink his apple juice. McGee has texted him an update on the case: fingerprints found at the crime scene were Eggleston's, whom Tony initially suspected. He texts back _TOLD YOU _in all caps, then follows with another message: _Gibbs pissed at me?_

McGee only replies to the latter. _Nope._

"Daddy?" Angelina calls. "You come back?"

"Just a minute." He stuffs a large spoonful of cheesy noodles into his mouth.

The next time she calls for him, her voice is wavering. "Daddy?"

"I'll be right there."

"It's spinning."

Tony pauses and furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Everything spinning."

Plunking his bowl down, he hurries into the other room. Angelina is breathing heavily, her eyes squeezed shut. Tony pulls her into a sitting position and gently pushes on her back. "Put your head between your knees."

She presses her thighs to her chest and does so. When she whimpers, he rubs her neck, trying to calm her down and loosen her muscles. "You're okay. Just a little dizzy. Is that better? Did it stop spinning?"

Angelina raises her head a bit and nods. She takes a few sips of water, her father hanging onto her arm to keep her steady, and then motions at the spot beside her. Before he's even seated, he knows what she wants: she crawls into his lap, and he holds her tight. They stay like that for a while, the movie playing in the background, until she dry heaves and turns over to reach her bucket. It takes several moments for anything to come out of her mouth, and whatever finally does is clear. At first, he can't figure out why that's the case; then he realizes she's throwing up the water.

"You can't keep anything down, can you?" he sighs, grabbing his handy washcloth and wiping off her mouth.

"It tastes icky."

"I know, baby. Try to sleep."

"I don't wanna."

"Then let's watch this movie. Come on, it's good."

Eventually she does fall asleep, though she awakens frequently to ask for water and, soon after, throw it back up. His legs are numb under her weight, but he doesn't want to move her from where she's comfortable. He turns off the movie and flips over to ZNN. There's been a bomb recovered in Los Angeles just moments before it was set to go off. He wonders if Ziva is watching this same news feed. Actually, he wonders if she even has a TV anymore- she never watched hers much.

Angelina wakes up again around nine. She blinks slowly. "Daddy?"

"What's up?"

"I want Jacie." She mimes hugging something. "Jacie, my teddy."

"Yeah, I know. Move over. I'll get him for you." Tony waits for her to crawl off of him, then stands. His back pops painfully. "Ouch."

"Spinning!" Angelina cries suddenly, sounding terrified. She clutches loose strands of her hair, knuckles turning white.

"Hey." Tony tries to placate her, but she's in hysterics. "Don't be scared. Put your head between your knees, like you did earlier… Angelina, listen to me-"

Her eyelids and body droop almost simultaneously, and his ability to think rationally flies out the window. All he knows to do is grab the phone, dial 911, and follow the operator's instructions- elevate her feet- until the sirens sound in the distance and steadily grow closer and there are paramedics, one of whom reassures Tony that she's fine. She's fine. Everything's fine.

0000000000

Gibbs and McGee show up at the hospital after Angelina has been admitted, and they seem to have predicted that Tony would be at the coffee bar. He puts down the creamer, cocks his eyebrow in surprise. "I called to tell you that I wouldn't be in for a few more days. Didn't expect you to come up here. It's late."

"We were still at work. Just thought we'd check things out," Gibbs says. McGee appears mildly uncomfortable, but nods in agreement.

"She fainted 'cause she was dehydrated. They want to keep her here, get some fluids in her until the bug goes away. Not a big deal." He takes a long gulp of coffee. He's damn tired. "She hates the IV. Asked me like five times if the nurse could take it out. Do you guys wanna see her? She'd like that."

"Tim will," Gibbs replies. "What room, DiNozzo?"

"621."

McGees opens and shuts his mouth like a fish gasping for air, but his boss shoves him in the direction of Angelina's room and he leaves. Tony, well aware that Gibbs sent McGee away for a reason, stares at the wall. The two men fall silent until Gibbs states rather than asks, "You were scared."

"Hell yeah, I was. She passed out in front of me and I barely remember what happened next, I was so freaked out." Tony sinks into a nearby chair. "What's wrong with me?"

Gibbs waits for elaboration.

"I must've known somewhere in my mind that she was just dehydrated from vomiting so much, but all I thought was, _I can't lose her, too_." He shakes his head. "It scared the _shit_ out of me, and that was stupid. There wasn't any reason-"

The chair beside his creaks as Gibbs sits on it, then leans closer. "You lost the woman you love. Nobody can blame you for being afraid of losing your child."

Tony doesn't try to hide his moist eyes. He's done with pride. There's no room for it anymore. "She's the only thing holding me together," he says hoarsely. "She's the reason I haven't gone crazy the way I did that one summer."

"Well," Gibbs says, "it's a good thing she's here, then." He squeezes his senior field agent's shoulder. "I'm gonna go say hi to her, but I bet she'd prefer to see her dad."

Swiping at his face, Tony says, "Be there in a minute."

0000000000

The hospital room is almost completely white. He brings Jacie and some other stuffed animals to brighten it up, and, at her request, he braids Angelina's hair. She's bored and she hates staying there and she wants to go home, so he makes a point to be with her nearly every hour that she's awake. The first night, he sleeps on a cot on the floor, but in the morning he's so stiff that he has to have his back popped by a chiropractor elsewhere in the hospital. After that, he starts leaving once she has drifted off.

It's taxing to play kids' games and read large print books all day, so he actually grows to enjoy the times when Angelina pushes away _The Cat in the Hat _and wants to hear a story about her mother instead. Tony tells her about pranks they pulled on each other and about driving through Paris together on a Vespa as their laughs mingled with the other sounds of the city. Angelina asks question after question after question, but he doesn't mind. He's happy to answer.

On the fourth day she's in the hospital- perhaps the last full day; the fever has broken and she has only thrown up once in twenty-four hours- McGee suddenly appears in the doorway. The team has been visiting, but in pairs or groups, not individually. Tony can see from his face that something is wrong. "What're you doing here?"

McGee glances at Angelina and finds her napping. "Uh." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I came to tell you something."

Getting to his feet, Tony says, "What?" His guard is up. McGee isn't looking at him. "Spit it out."

"Vance and Gibbs got into it." Once the dam breaks, the words rush past it. "I heard them yelling, everyone could hear it- and listen, nothing's for sure, Gibbs didn't want me to tell you, but I think you should know-"

"_What_?" he asks urgently.

McGee takes a deep breath. "Vance asked him to fire you."

**Oh, don't look at me like that. IT'S ALL GOOD, BROTHA. ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

Tony's jaw is slack. "What? Why? Why does Vance want me fired?"

"Because you aren't available as much. _I'm_ not blaming you; nobody cares except him," McGee adds hastily. "But I guess… he's let it go until now, and he isn't happy that you've been gone all week."

Even as anger surges through his veins and he gestures wildly at Angelina, Tony manages to keep his voice low. "What the hell does he expect me to do? She's three. I can't leave her here alone."

McGee shrugs helplessly. "I don't know."

He starts to pace, running his fingers through his hair. "Shit. _Shit_."

"We don't know that anything's gonna happen, Tony. If Vance fired you himself, Gibbs would be pissed. And nobody wants a pissed off Gibbs."

The words barely register. He's too busy thinking over his options. The money Ziva left him is virtually untouched; he'd be fine for a while. He could find another government job, or a police department gig… "What am I gonna do? I need to work-"

McGee surprises them both by grabbing Tony's upper arms. "Stop. Just… cool it, okay? He'll fight for you."

Yeah. He knows. Gibbs would fight for any member of his team, even Richie. But now, as he remembers all the mornings he's arrived at work late and the evenings when he's had to rush out early, he wonders if he deserves it. As he opens his mouth to say so, an excited voice from behind them cries, "Uncle Timmy!"

"Hey," McGee says, dropping his hands to his sides. "How're you feeling?"

"Good. I go home 'morrow."

"Hopefully," Tony reminds her.

"I brought you something." McGee reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag of jacks. "Here, look." He dumps the jacks onto her empty lunch tray and begins to demonstrate how to play while Angelina watches in fascination. Tony sinks back into his chair, heaves a deep sigh, and imagines how much easier his life would be if he followed Ziva's instructions and found somebody else.

Even so, he feels absolutely no obligation- or desire- to fulfill her wishes.

0000000000

Angelina does end up coming home the next day. Only when she's settled back into the apartment and things feel more normal does Tony realize how much he's missed having her here. Within two hours of returning, she is watching Dora and eating applesauce. He is supposed to monitor what she puts into her still-sensitive stomach, and he's also been instructed to "shove water down that child's throat as much as possible". Although she's fatigued and has a sore abdomen, she is on the mend.

She wants to sleep in his bed that night. The parenting book warns him not to allow this to become a habit (especially if the child already needs a parent in order to fall asleep, which Angelina does), but he can't recall her ever asking to sleep anywhere besides in her own room, and he doesn't see why she can't do it this one time. She comes bearing her own blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal, and climbs up onto the perpetually empty side of the bed. She hugs him around the waist. "Love you, Daddy."

"Love you too." Tony watches as she snuggles into her blanket. "I'm glad you're all better."

Her reply is incomprehensible. Half a minute later, her breathing evens out. He sighs, leaning over to kiss her forehead, and then lies down himself. The ceiling stretches above him, so dark that it could be an abyss. He kind of wishes it would suck him up. For a long, long time, he tosses and turns and changes positions. Angelina's soft breaths should be enough to lull him into at least a doze, but he is wide awake. When the clock reads 11:15- he's been at this for a long time- he finally crawls out of bed and wanders into the living room. Instead of turning on the TV, he flops into a chair. There's a plastic pony sitting at his feet; he picks it up and absentmindedly moves it across his lap in a gallop. Over time, his mind turns from Gibbs and Vance to Ziva. Ziva, who could be anywhere in the country. Anywhere in the world. She must have a job; there's no way she could still be getting by on what she took when she left. Has she had financial strains since leaving him her savings account? It would suck, he decides, for her to be all alone out there with no support system and no money. Or perhaps she isn't alone at all; maybe _she_ has moved on. It's selfish, but he hates thinking about her with another man. He doesn't want her to create another family. He wants her to come back to this one.

_Stop it, _he tells himself, because the future of _this_ family is exactly what _he_ needs to be focusing on right now.

Tony glances at his cell phone. It's sitting on the coffee table and almost seems expectant. Before he's even aware of what he's doing, he's dialing. The gruff voice on the other end answers, "Yeah. Gibbs."

"Hey, Boss." He clears his throat. "What're you doing?"

"Talkin' to you."

"Right. Uh." Registering the impatience in Gibbs' voice, Tony rushes to get to the point, to explain why he's calling ten minutes before midnight. He isn't sure himself until he starts talking. "Okay, I guess… here's the deal. I have a job to do, and it's to raise my kid. That's… she has to be my priority. But you have a job to do, too. I get that. And if my obligations are interfering with your ability to conduct investigations-"

Gibbs interrupts him with a growl. "Damn it. I told McGee to keep his mouth shut."

"He thought I needed to know." Tony picks the pony up by its mane, swings it in a circle, then tosses it at the couch. "Boss, I appreciate what you're doing, but Vance has a point. I'm not the most present agent right now-"

"Vance has a wife who's always available to deal with their kids. He doesn't understand the demands placed on you. He also doesn't understand that you don't have to be the most present agent to be the best." Gibbs pauses, lets his words sink in. "And I'm not letting him take my best agent."

"You really don't have to-"

"Shut up before I change my mind, DiNozzo."

"Yes, Boss," Tony says quickly.

There is shuffling in the other room, and then Angelina calls drowsily, "Daddy?"

"I'll be right there, Ang. Go back to sleep." He starts to speak into the receiver again, but Gibbs beats him to it.

"You go to sleep, too. I better see you Monday morning." And the line goes dead.

0000000000

On Monday, Tony arrives early and hires a sitter for Angelina so that he can stay a bit later than usual. He is up to date by the time he leaves, and in the following days and weeks, he becomes extremely efficient. His chatter and laziness wane; he packs as much productivity as possible into the hours he spends at work. Often, he feels eyeballs drilling into the back of his head, and sometimes he turns in his seat to hold Vance's gaze. The director always looks away first, and Tony gets a sort of smug satisfaction from that.

Nobody brings up the possibility of him losing his job again, and eventually, he begins to relax. There is still a small force pushing him, though; it will not allow him to slack off anymore, to take his income for granted. Because if there's one thing he has learned in the past three years, it's that nothing is permanent.

**Again… I just can't believe the response this story has gotten. WOW. You guys make my day. Thank you all so much!**


	15. Chapter 15

"The pink ones. No, no, no. Blue ones. No! Red."

Tony stands with his hands at his sides, making faces at himself in the mirror while he waits for his indecisive child to make up her mind. They go through this every morning after he has braided her hair; the choosing of which color ribbons she wants at the ends of the braids is an epic drama. "Ang," he prompts after another minute of deliberation, "come on."

"Wait, wait." She holds up the green ribbons. "These!"

"You sure?"

He shouldn't have asked. "No." Angelina drops them and taps her chin. "Hmm."

"Sweetie, we really need to get going."

"What's Mommy's favorite color?" she asks, looking up at him.

For a moment, he blanks, and that scares him. He wonders if Ziva is slipping through his fingers, if he's going to keep forgetting these little facts. And then the answer makes its way to the front of his mind and he relaxes, because she's still in there. "Yellow."

_Like school buses? _he'd teased her. _Like the sun?_

_Yes, Tony. Like the sun._

Angelina nods and turns back to the sink. Her fingers fold around her two yellow ribbons. "These ones!"

0000000000

As the only single dad who ever comes to the preschool Angelina attends, Tony has become quite popular with the single moms there. Blonde girls in bars like the absence of a wedding ring for one reason; these women like it for a different one. Most of them have flirted with him at least once, some more subtly than others. He is polite enough to converse, but finds that his romantic interest in them- even the hot ones- is nonexistent.

Sarah Maxwell, mother of Liliana the brat, is the hottest, most persistent, and most objectionable. She laughs too loudly, either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he draws away every time she touches his arm, and constantly tries to engage him in gossip. Tony survives the conversations by repeating phrases such as "Really?" and "That's messed up," which she seems to take as encouragement. It's always a relief when he's finally able to shake her.

She materializes one warm Saturday evening- a time when he can usually count on being rid of her- while he sits on a park bench and Angelina plays on the jungle gym. It's been a good weekend so far, but that sentiment ends suddenly when he hears, "Well, hello there!"

The voice, high and cheery, is unmistakably Sarah's. Heart sinking, Tony looks up to find her bleached hair piled high on her head, her long legs clad in jogging pants. She doesn't appear to have broken a sweat. "Hey," he says casually. "How are you?"

"I'm great." Without waiting for an invitation, she plops down beside him, their thighs brushing. He scoots a couple inches away. "This weather is so lovely, I just _had_ to get out in it. Called the sitter to stay with Liliana so I could have a few minutes of peace; you know how that is. So, anyway! I had _no idea _you lived around here."

"Yeah." Tony points in the general direction of his apartment complex. "Cedar Woods."

"Oh, okay! We're just up the road from here. The girls should totally have a play date sometime!"

He can't help himself. "Totally."

The sarcasm lost on her, she starts eyeing his bare ring finger and doesn't stop until he puts his hand in his lap. "You know." Her voice is quieter than usual, meaning it's at the average person's normal volume. "Liliana told me that Angelina doesn't know her mom."

Tony recoils, feeling as if he's been punched in the gut. "Excuse me?"

"It's a shame. Girls need a mother. I'm sure you're doing your best-"

"I am," he interrupts. "And we're fine. More than fine."

"It can't be easy, though." Sarah possesses no understanding of when to shut the hell up. She is oblivious to the clenching of his fists, the tightening of his jaw. "We were all concerned when Angelina was sick last winter, since we knew it was just you-"

"We're fine." Tony snaps it this time. "You and your clique buddies don't need to worry about us." He stands abruptly and walks away, looking straight ahead, determined not to show that her words have affected him. As he nears Angelina, she grabs his hand.

"Why Liliana's mommy starin' at you?"

"Dunno." He lifts her onto his hip. "Let's go get some dinner."

"But I no done playing!" Tony feels her pout against his neck. "Liliana's mommy on phone."

No doubt calling one of her friends. By Monday, the whole preschool will know what happened. Tony sighs heavily and tries not to think that far ahead. He gently moves Angelina's head so that she can no longer see Sarah. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Applebee's!"

"Applebee's it is."

An hour later, she's devouring chicken fingers and he's poking at a steak because something is still bothering him. He doesn't feel right about the things Sarah said, because as rude as she was, she was right. It _is_ hard to be a single, working parent. It's hard to be here for Angelina and miss Ziva and keep Vance happy. It's hard to be one person stretched in so many different directions, to be a little girl's everything, to feel abandoned and alone. He gets through it because he has to, and hell, he's even _happy_ a lot of the time.

But can it last?

He'd been right, too. They really _are_ fine right now. But maybe he freaked out on Sarah Maxwell because of the possibility that someday, they won't be. Or, more accurately, _he_ won't be. Angelina will grow up and leave; he will retire. And then what?

"Daddy." She is tapping his arm with one hand and holding a ketchup bottle with the other. "Daddy, it not come out."

Tony takes the bottle and shakes it a couple of times. "Try it now."

The ketchup pools on her plate. Angelina smiles. "Goody."

He watches as she continues to eat. Crumbs stick to her cheeks; grease coats her fingers. "Give me your hands," he says, and she does. He cleans them with a baby wipe and prays that someday, when there are no more little hands to hold, he'll be alright.

0000000000

"How did it happen?"

Tony yawns. This stakeout is beginning to drag. "What?"

"You…" Richie hesitates, rubs at the corner of her mouth, where her lipstick has smudged. "You and Agent David."

Becoming very still, he stares out the windshield at the empty sidewalk. The unexpected mention of Ziva has rendered him speechless, and he needs to take a few seconds to get a grip. "Thought that was a taboo topic with you."

"It's not like you talk about it, either," she points out. "But we've been working together for a couple years now. I think it's time to address the elephant in the room."

At the correct use of the idiom, he finds himself chuckling, because Ziva probably would have messed it up. "What do you want to know?" he asks, turning to face her. "Why she left?"

Richie averts her heavily outlined eyes. "I know why she left."

"Really. Workplace gossip gets around, huh?" Tony taps his foot against the gas, even though the car is turned off.

"Vance told me when I was hired."

"That's not his business to tell."

"He thought I should know what I was getting into. You can't deny that it effects the team dynamic."

"Yeah, okay." He exhales loudly. "So how did what happen? You'll have to be more specific."

"How did you become… what you were?"

A rush of uninvited memories hits him like a monsoon. All those moments leading up to the kiss they never looked back from. Those nights when neither slept because they were too wrapped up in each other. The days, when they were content to hold hands across the lunch table, to laugh in the elevator. The omnipresent feeling that he was right where he was supposed to be.

"It had been a long time coming," Tony says. Richie cocks her head, and for some reason, he is inclined to keep talking. "A really, _really_ long time. And one day, I decided that I was, uh." _Gunshot went off. I saw _you… "Tired of pretending."

"Pretending what?" she asks quietly.

"That I wasn't in love with her. That I was fine with being her partner and friend and nothing else… that I could live without her."

He swallows the lump in his throat, tries to figure out why this twenty-five year old who dresses like a teenager suddenly seems like a good confidant. She takes a few moments to process his words, then says, "You _can_ live without her."

"What?" Tony jerks his head in her direction. Not since before Somalia has he ever thought such a thing. It simply isn't true.

"You've been living without her for years." Richie speaks gently, letting him know that she understands the delicacy of this subject. "And Di- _Tony_- you are doing well. You know?"

"If I didn't have a kid," he says, "I would be drinking myself into oblivion."

"If you didn't have a kid, Agent David would be here."

And just like that, he wants to sock her. "Over the line, Probie," he growls. "I love my daughter-"

"That's the point. What I meant was that there is no scenario where you'd find it necessary to become a drunk. If you were completely alone, that's what you'd do. Right? But you're not. And you aren't _going_ to be. Remember that."

Tony checks out the apartment their suspect should be visiting soon. He has still not arrived. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, he says, "No, I'm not alone. But I'm also not… living without Ziva." He says her actual name so rarely nowadays that it almost feels strange on his tongue. "To really _live_ without her would be to move on, and that's not happening. I'll never get over her. I want to, but I can't."

"You still love her," Richie verifies.

"Yeah."

She shakes her head. "Staying fixated on her isn't healthy."

"I know." Tony shrugs. "Guess I'm gonna have to be unhealthy."

The red Taurus they've been waiting for finally pulls up to the curb, and the two agents spot it at the exact same time. Silence prevails as they start preparing their cameras, and even though Tony is relieved that the too-deep conversation is over, it has left him with a lot to think about.

0000000000

As soon as Tony and Angelina get home that night, he sets her up in front of the TV and heads to his bedroom. He opens the nightstand drawer, removes her letter and the picture from Paris, and holds them side by side.

"You are never going to leave me alone," he whispers to Ziva. There really is a void in his heart that cannot be filled, and now he realizes with absolute certainty that life without her can only be so good. Unless she returns to him, this will never, ever be fixed.

He sits down on the floor, leans against the bed, and waits for the tears. Inevitably, they come. Slowly. One at a time. Little feet scamper about in the hallway, and he has the fleeting thought that he needs to pull himself together enough to go make dinner. But first, he must take this private moment to grieve.

Eventually, he brushes away a drop of saltwater that has fallen onto Ziva's soft, unguarded face, then the moisture still on his, and stands. The two cherished possessions go back in their drawer. He forces himself into father mode and heads out, calling, "Ang?"

There is no answer. The TV is still on; he figures she can't hear him and walks into the kitchen. And then he startles a bit, because he was not expecting to see her standing next to the fridge, crying.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Angelina doesn't reply except for a loud sniffle. Crouching down, he holds out his arms. "Come here, baby girl."

She runs to him, buries her face in his chest, and he holds her warm body close. Tony's mind races, but he can't figure out why she's upset. She'd been cheerful when he picked her up from school, happy when he turned on her show. "Hey," he whispers, rubbing her back. "Come on. Tell me what's the matter."

"Daddy was sad," she sobs.

He freezes. "Daddy's not sad."

"You was." Angelina draws back far enough to look at him. "And now I sad."

Tony tries to remember whether he shut his bedroom door, comes to the conclusion that he didn't, and curses himself. "Don't be sad. Daddy's okay."

"Why the Mommy picture make you sad?"

_Damn it. _How did he not notice her watching him? He strokes her forehead with his thumb and says carefully, "I was just kinda missing her. Sometimes I wish that she could be here with us."

Angelina nods, index finger in her mouth. New tears shine in her eyes. "Me too."

"But," Tony adds, willing his heart not to break in two, "she loves us, you know. And we love her. Don't forget that."

"Okay." She hugs him again. His thighs are beginning to hurt from squatting, but he returns the embrace. "I love you, Daddy. So no be sad."

"I'm not," he lies. "And I love you, too."

**Quicker than usual, 'cause last chapter was kinda short. Wanna review? :D**


	16. Chapter 16

_Two Years Later_

Tony falls into the seat beside Gibbs, panting. His boss raises an eyebrow. "Problems, DiNozzo?"

"Thought we were gonna be late. She couldn't decide which dress to wear." The lights in the bandbox of an auditorium dim. "Look at that. Right on time. I didn't realize preschools even had graduations. Thanks for coming, by the way."

Gibbs smiles. "Wouldn't miss it."

A woman walks across the stage and stops behind the podium. She introduces herself as the school's director and begins talking about the "bright futures ahead for our five year old class," which Tony thinks is jumping the gun, but whatever. When he remembers how reluctant Angelina was to start preschool, he feels ridiculously proud of her for having made it this far.

Tony debates with himself for a moment before turning back to Gibbs and whispering, "Ziva would love to see this."

Gibbs nods, keeping his eyes on the director.

With Angelina, Tony doesn't hesitate to talk about Ziva. It's like the circumstances surrounding her absence are totally normal, the way they speak so casually. Of course, that's on the outside; inside, he is not nonchalant. The reason he does it is the same reason he decided to tell Angelina about her mother in the first place: her good aspects overshadow the bad.

However, Ziva's name doesn't come up much within the team. If Tony wants to talk about her- and sometimes, he really feels like he _needs_ to- then the others will listen. He has to be the one who initiates the conversation, though. The only person really willing to discuss her is Ducky, and now that the doctor has retired, Tony doesn't see him quite as often. Even so, _somebody _is always there for him, and he's grateful for that. Usually, he deals; once in a while, he needs help.

That's one big way he's changed in the past five years: he _does_ ask for help.

Unlike Ziva.

Onstage, the preschoolers are filing onto a set of bleachers behind and to the left of the podium. The girls wear frilly dresses; the boys are clad in slacks and clip-on ties. Angelina is in the second of the three rows. She catches his eye and waves enthusiastically. Tony and Gibbs wave back. Liliana Maxwell glares at all three of them.

Pretty much everybody in the room knows about the drama that has ensued between the Maxwells and the DiNozzos, all because he freaked out that time in the park. Sarah told Liliana something along the lines of, "No wonder Angelina's mom left her dad," which the little girl promptly repeated to Tony's daughter. Angelina came home upset, he and Sarah had to attend a very awkward conference with the girls' teacher, and eventually, Liliana was moved to a different classroom. That seemed to take care of the problem, although Angelina contends that Liliana still likes to find her at recess and pull on her braids. Needless to say, the single moms haven't been as interested in Tony since that incident.

Music drifts out of the big speakers set up beside the stage, and all the little kids tense in anticipation. When the words start, they join in with high-pitched, off-key vocals. Tony already knows this song by heart; Angelina has been singing it around the apartment all week. He watches her for a moment, amused by how excited she looks, and then glances behind him. Several parents are videotaping the performance, while several others appear to be half-asleep. As he moves to face forward again, his gaze lands on the open auditorium doors.

And then he sees her.

His heart literally stops beating. It stills in his chest and his head goes light, because _she is here_. She's older, of course, and her hair is shorter than he's used to, only falling to her shoulder blades. Her gaze is on Angelina. Tony stares, at a loss. What… _what?_

Ziva turns toward him. Their eyes lock; hers get wide.

She turns on her heel and leaves.

He springs into action.

"Excuse me," he says, stepping over legs and blocking others' views. "Sorry. Sorry…"

Finally, he emerges from his row, sprints up the aisle and out the doors. A wave of dark hair disappears around the corner. He runs even faster, barrels into the hallway she just entered. "Ziva!" He finally finds his voice, but it comes out strangled. "Stop!"

To his amazement, she does.

Tony halts only when he is in front of her. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins powerfully enough to knock down all his barriers, everything he has put in place to make himself believe he is fine. Pure, unchecked anger is all that remains.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That's what he says to the love of his life.

She blinks. The area around her eyes is marked with lines. "Well, I was _trying_ to leave, Tony."

Of all the thoughts racing through his mind, the one that makes it out of his mouth is, "Where's your accent?" Because this tone she's using, this manner of speaking that mirrors his own, is unnerving.

Ziva clears her throat. "I have gotten used to covering it," she says with the familiar lilt to her words, and he actually feels relieved. "Now, may I go?"

"No." His fingers curl tightly over her elbow. "_No. _Damn it. Do you just expect to… to pop in, say hi, and disappear again? You owe me an explanation, Ziva. Let's maybe start with where you got the nerve to show up here."

"I needed to see her," she says quietly. It takes a second for him to catch up. Angelina. She means Angelina. "I did not intend to be seen. All I wanted was a glimpse." Ziva sighs. "She is beautiful."

"How did you know which one was her?"

"It is obvious, isn't it? She's the one who looks like me and you." His grip on her arm has relaxed, and she breaks gently from his grasp. "Please, Tony. You don't understand-"

"_You_ abandoned us! And you're acting like you can just walk in here and it's no big deal. Where the hell have you _been_ while I've been raising _our_ daughter?"

Oh, he's pissed. So beyond pissed. He doesn't even give her time to fabricate some bullshit answer before he goes off again. "I taught her to walk and now we're working on riding a bike. I tuck her in at night and make breakfast every morning and I almost lost my job, Ziva, all because I try so fucking hard to make up for the fact that _her mother abandoned her_."

This last part is spoken with such ferocity, such blame, that she actually shuts up. Tony fights to control his breathing and his mouth. The halls are quiet, but surely the ceremony will be over soon; they'll need to move this spectacle elsewhere.

Ziva crosses her arms over her stomach and takes a hesitant step forward. Then two, then three. "I was protecting her," she whispers, looking close to tears. Her voice turns defiant, although one drop does fall from her eye, when she adds, "I did the right thing."

He curses the effect she has on him, even after all this time. In the cheap fluorescent lighting, she looks small and weak and he really is angrier than he's ever been in his life, but it's so hard to stay that way because all he's wanted for so long is to see her again and yes, here she is, conveying with her facial expression that her actions were done out of love.

Voices filter into the hall at the exact time his phone vibrates. He pulls it out and opens the new message from Gibbs.

_People coming out. I'll get A._

Tony sighs. _What now? _"Did you see Gibbs? He was in there."

Ziva nods slowly. "Yes. He looks good."

"Still catching bad guys with the best of 'em." Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he says, "Look-"

"I am not staying," she interrupts. "It was a mistake to come, and I am sorry. You will not hear from me again."

She turns around, and he panics. He grabs her arm before she can go to the lobby and get lost in the crowd. "No. You do _not_ get to leave us again."

"And what do you expect me to do, Tony?" It's a challenge. "I'm sorry about what you've been through. I am. But how can I change any of that now?"

"You can't," he snaps. "But maybe you could stick around long enough to give me some answers."

Ziva considers him for a second that feels like an eternity. "I will get a hotel room," she offers eventually.

"You can stay with Gibbs," he counters, then hopes his boss doesn't mind. "I'm gonna go find him and send him over here. I'll do something with Angelina tomorrow and… you and I can talk. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Please stay here. Please don't leave," he begs.

"I won't," Ziva says.

"It'll only take two seconds. You don't have enough time to make a run for it."

"I _said_ that I _won't_, Tony," she says testily.

"Sorry," he snaps. "I've just grown to expect that from you."

She looks at the ground, and he wishes he could take back his words.

He enters the lobby in search of Gibbs and finds him sitting on a bench with Angelina. She jumps up as her father approaches and bounds over to him. "Daddy! Did you see me?"

"I did!" Tony picks her up and twirls her around. "You did so good. Now you're all ready for kindergarten." Over her head, he mouths, _Ziva's in the hall._

Eyebrows knitting together in a question, Gibbs points to himself.

"If you don't mind," he mutters, and Gibbs hurries past him. Tony smoothes down Angelina's hair, half-listening to her incessant babbling. When she appears to be done, he asks, "Did you have fun?"

She gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Yeah."

"Glad you went with that dress?"

"Yeah. Can we get ice cream?"

Another text arrives. He views it- _got Ziva_- and sighs heavily.

He'll worry about her tomorrow.

Tonight, he has a promise to keep.

"Yes, ma'am," he tells his little girl, placing her back on the ground. "The holder of the preschool degree deserves an ice cream cone."

0000000000

Angelina has trouble going to sleep that night. She is full of sugar and excitement, and the bedtime routine- bath, pajamas, teeth- takes an entire hour. He spends another hour squeezed beside her on the twin bed, humming softly and grabbing her waist every time she attempts to escape. At long last, she drifts off mid-sentence, head nestled against his knee.

During this ordeal, he all but forgot about Ziva; now, however, he has a pounding heart as he stands in the living room and calls Gibbs. The older man answers gruffly on the third ring, and Tony wonders what the hell has been going on over there.

"Hey," he says awkwardly. "Uh. What's up?"

Gibbs scoffs. "You serious?"

"Did you get anything out of her?"

"She's been in New York City."

"New York? The whole time?" An hour away. _That's all?_

"Hasn't had that red car since the third day she was gone. She sold it to somebody in rural South Carolina, took a train to New York, never looked back."

The words hang heavily in the air. _Never looked back_. At her boyfriend, at her daughter. At her family.

"So what'd she do there?"

"No idea. She asked about McGee and Abby and Ducky, wouldn't say anything else about herself. Now she's pretending to be conked out on my couch." There is a pause. "What're you gonna do, DiNozzo?"

Tony kicks at the carpet. "Dunno."

"You know you'll need to decide," Gibbs says, unusually gentle, "if you want her back in your lives."

"I don't think that's a problem," he replies bitterly. "I made her stay the night. She doesn't _want _back in."

"Some part of her wants to be with you and Angelina. Otherwise, she wouldn't have come back at all." When Tony doesn't respond- there's a lump in his throat that he can't quite get rid of- Gibbs says, "We'll figure it out tomorrow. Get some sleep," and hangs up.

In the morning, Tony calls Whitney, a friend of Sarah McGee's, to ask if she can come over. She arrives as Angelina is finishing up her lunch. Tony intercepts her at the door and speaks quietly. "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I'll pay you twice the usual. Not… not really sure when I'll be back."

Whitney raises her eyebrows. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh. Not really sure about that one, either."

She nods slowly, but doesn't push. "Take as long as you need."

The drive to Gibbs' house is nerve-wracking; when he arrives, he parks on the street and stares out the windshield for a long time. It's only when a woman walking a dog eyes him suspiciously that he turns off the car and gets out. He goes up the walk and pushes open the front door, unlocked as always. Silence greets him. "Hello?" he calls, voice too loud.

"In here," Gibbs says, and Tony wanders into the kitchen. He and Ziva are at the table, hands wrapped around cups of coffee. When Tony glances at Ziva, she looks away. "You bring Angelina?"

"She's with the sitter," he says.

Nobody speaks. Then his boss stands up, coffee in hand. "I'll be downstairs." A moment later, the basement door shuts very pointedly.

Tony and Ziva are alone.

She still has not met his eyes. He sits in the chair Gibbs has vacated, knees turned to the side as if he is planning to dash off. Which he isn't. Probably. "So, uh. You sleep well?"

This is ridiculous. They used to be best friends, able to talk about anything, to read each other so well that the talking wasn't even necessary.

Finally, she raises her head. "Fine. Did you?"

So stiff. So formal. He tells the truth. "Not great."

Ziva purses her lips, then decides to come clean as well. "Me either."

He pictures her wandering around this house the way he'd wandered around his apartment in the middle of the night. Lost. Uncertain.

"Tell me about her."

He's caught so off guard that he asks, "Who?"

"Angelina."

Four syllables, each spoken with such care, almost reverence, that it makes him want to cry. Ziva should be used to saying that name, to cooing it, to singing _An-ge-lina, lina, lina_ the way he does. She shouldn't have to _ask_ about her own daughter. There's so much to tell; Tony isn't sure where to start. "Well… she's a sweetheart. Loves hugs and kisses. She's also very… I'd call her compassionate. Which is a weird thing to say about a little kid, but she's always worrying about people. Once, I picked her up from school and this boy was crying, and all she talked about the whole way home was that she hoped he was okay." He drums his fingers against his knee. "That kind of stuff reminds me of you."

Ziva's lips close around the edge of her mug and she takes a slow sip of coffee. After swallowing, she says, "That is a compliment I do not deserve." She doesn't give him time to figure out how to reply. "What else?"

"She really likes to learn. Like, her teachers tell me she's the most active participant in their room. She can already read a little. And actually, she's having me teach her Spanish. _Dora the Explorer _is her favorite show."

"Really? And what can she say?"

"_No quiero _sleep,Daddy," he says, and they both chuckle, and he is hit by a wave of overwhelming, unexpected, very _welcome_ déjà vu. Which he promptly goes and ruins by adding, "She also likes to hear about you."

Ziva's head snaps up. "What?"

Immediately, he knows he's made a mistake, but there's no turning back now. "Uh. A couple years ago, she started asking questions about where you were, so I told her… I told her that you loved her and I started telling her about you. Just in bits and pieces."

"Why did you do that?" she demands, eyes narrowing with such ferocity that she suddenly looks younger. "You are supposed to be moving on. Both of you."

"No offense, Ziva," Tony says as his anger begins to reappear, "but I'm not exactly inclined to take orders from you these days."

"It's not an order! It's something you need to do for _you_! For her! Because you told Angelina right, Tony. I _do_ love her, and I love you too, and I want happiness for you!"

A heated response is on its way out of his mouth before her words sink in. _I love you too_. Love, not loved. Ziva seems to realize what he is thinking; her hand drifts to her mouth. They stare at each other.

"I am sorry," she whispers finally.

"For what?" His voice is barely there.

"For allowing that to get out." She stands up and pushes in her chair. "Let's forget about it."

Ziva exits the kitchen. He remains where he is and stares after her, shocked and aware that while he didn't get to ask any of the questions he wanted to, he sure as hell got some information out of her.

**So… yeah. She's back. But stay tuned- we've got quite a ways to go!**


	17. Chapter 17

He goes home. Ziva has disappeared elsewhere in Gibbs' house, obviously not wanting to be found, and he's too shocked, too taken aback, to continue that conversation, anyway. Yes, he still loves her; he never stopped. He never will. Something about hearing her reciprocate it, though, and after all this time… that makes him nervous.

Whitney and Angelina are sitting cross-legged around the coffee table, coloring. As soon as she notices him entering the apartment, Angelina abandons her picture, runs at him, and barrels into his legs. "Daddy!"

"Oof," he says, steadying himself against the door. "Hey."

"Where'd you go?"

"I went, uh. I just went to work for a little bit to finish something up," he rattles off quickly, then changes the subject. "Were you good for Whitney?"

"She was great." Whitney stands up and looks at him curiously. Her awareness of the fact that something's wrong is starting to annoy him. Fortunately, she doesn't ask; she thanks him for her money, tells him to call anytime, and leaves.

"Here's my picture," Angelina says proudly, holding up her coloring book. "Do you like it?"

"I do." Tony thinks he sounds remarkably normal, considering how on edge he is. His gut is clenching and unclenching, and he swallows hard every twenty or thirty seconds. He shouldn't have come back here so soon; now he'll have to make another trip over to see her. Because even though he has no idea what's going to happen to the three of them as a family, things between he and Ziva cannot end right here. _She still loves him_.

As if his mind can be read from miles away, his phone starts ringing, and it's Gibbs. He answers hesitantly and is greeted with a, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you _leave, _DiNozzo? I left you two alone to talk. You weren't here long enough for there to be a whole lot of resolution going on."

Tony sighs deeply, runs a hand down his face. "Look, Boss… the conversation took a… a weird turn, and we both just-"

"Get your ass back over here!"

The line goes dead.

_Are you shitting me? _Tony keeps the thought in his head, since Angelina is right in front of him, humming quietly as she searches for another picture to color. He considers disobeying Gibbs and staying here, but this will have to happen sooner or later, anyway. Might as well be now.

"Get your shoes on, Ang," he tells her. "We're gonna go visit Gibbs."

0000000000

He doesn't want Angelina to see Ziva. Not yet. When they are parked outside of Gibbs' house, Tony shoots him a text, and a minute later, he appears on the front porch.

"I'm gonna go inside to do something," he tells Angelina. "Gibbs is coming to help you get unbuckled."

"Okay," she says happily, sensing nothing suspicious about this, and he gets out of the car. On his way to the house, he passes Gibbs.

"Basement," the boss says gruffly.

"Make sure Ang doesn't come down."

"Duh."

Tony stands at the top of the basement stairs for several moments before beginning to descend them, and he hears her first, then sees her. She is pacing, ghosting her fingers over the boat (a different one from when Tony was last down here) that Gibbs is working on. The echo of his footsteps is loud, very loud. Neither of them look directly at each other, even when he comes to stand beside her.

"Gibbs is a hard ass, isn't he?" Tony quips. "So, how've you been in the half hour since I saw you last?"

"Tony," she chides gently, "I should not have said what I did. I apologize for it."

He shrugs. "If it's… if it's _true_… you shouldn't apologize for the truth." In a softer tone, he asks, "Is it true?" Because before he can proceed, he really, _really _needs to know.

Now she looks at him, and in her eyes he sees Ziva, _his_ Ziva, the one he used to know. The one he has missed so much. "Yes," she says. "It is."

Tony nods and sinks down onto a stool. What does this mean for them? Or does it mean anything at all? What is he supposed to say? _I'm still insanely pissed at you, but while we're on the subject, I love you, too._

Finally, Ziva interrupts his muddled thoughts. She is watching him carefully, her curly ponytail just long enough to brush her shoulder. "You had… questions for me, yes? That is why I am here?"

"Oh. Yeah." He forces himself to recall some of the many unknowns that gnawed at him before this new development. "Just… just wondering, you know. What you were doing in New York."

She exhales, but not in exasperation- more like she's gearing up to tell a long tale. There is another stool at Gibbs' work bench; she picks it up, drags it to a spot about five feet away from him, and hoists herself onto it. Slender fingers laced around her knees, she says, "I have gone by the name of Jessica Smith."

"Jessica Smith," he repeats slowly, trying to picture it on her. He can't, no matter how hard he tries. How the hell did she get Jessica Smith from Ziva David? Then he realizes that she didn't. And that's the point. "Smith is the most common surname in the United States."

"Yes," she confirms, and waits for him to put the rest of the puzzle together.

"I'm guessing that Jessica was the most popular name for American girls born in the 80s?"

Ziva nods, pursing her lips.

"Theoretically, more women your age are named Jessica Smith than anything else," he concludes. Honestly, it's brilliant. Horrifying- she lived for five years under a freaking _alias_- but brilliant. "We looked for you, you know. I mean, we knew right away that you'd be hard to find, and by the end of the day… the day you left, we had absolutely no clues and that was more or less the end of the search. But every couple months, we would fish again for a while. There was never anything to be found."

"Then I achieved my goal," she says quietly.

"Of disappearing from all of our lives? Yeah, you did."

She ignores the jab and continues to fill him in. "When I got to New York, I spent a couple weeks in cheap motels, a new one and a new name every night. I could not risk being found. Once enough time had elapsed without any contact from you or the others, I rented a brownstone in Brooklyn and got a job at a restaurant. That is where I have been ever since."

"A restaurant?" For some reason, that's not how he had envisioned her making ends meet- but at least she didn't rejoin Mossad.

"Yes. A Mexican place, which I chose because it allowed me to exercise my language skills- this is in a predominantly Spanish-speaking neighborhood- and to cook. I kept busy. I've been keeping busy all these years," she sighs, and looks away from him. "It distracted me, which is exactly what I wanted. To think about what I left behind… it was too painful."

Tony isn't sure he wants to know the answer, but he asks anyway. "Who's waiting for you back in New York?"

"My boss and my subordinates," she says, understanding the question and its implications. "That is all." The knowledge that there are no serious men in her life causes some of the tension to seep out of his shoulders. At this point, dealing well with being replaced seems like an impossibility.

Little feet pitter-patter on the floor above them. Tony watches as Ziva cranes her neck and stares longingly up at the ceiling. "Do you ever regret it?" he nearly whispers.

She doesn't need to clarify what he is speaking of. "No. I do not."

_Not for a second? Not for one second did you miss us enough to want to come back and try again?_ He tilts his head, tries to keep his voice calm. "Why not?"

"Because I was protecting her, Tony. I was protecting our little girl. And I _know_ it has not been easy for you, and yes, I know she is without a mother, but… I can tell that she is happy, that you are doing an amazing job of raising her."

"Glad you approve," he says bitterly.

Ziva frowns. "Listen. Now that I have returned, I know for certain that I made the right choice. My deepest regret is the hurt I have caused you, but-"

"Like hell it is," he interrupts with a harsh laugh. "If you _really_ wanted to fix this, you would have stayed and gone to the therapy and let me help you. I _was_ helping you, Ziva. I was trying to make everything work."

She shakes her head, turning sorrowful, and he is so tempted to tell her that she doesn't get to be the sad one here. Instead, he fumes silently, and she says, "You saw what happened at the doctor's that day. Angelina's safety was in jeopardy; what kind of mother would I be if I did not remove the threat?"

"You could have come to me," he grounds out, and suddenly, his anger is back with a vengeance. No more chit-chat; now, he feels more like he did when he saw her last night. He feels like yelling, and the only reason he doesn't is that Angelina is right upstairs. "We could have figured it out. You didn't have to disappear in the middle of the night."

"It was the right thing to do." Standing from her stool, she strides up to him and pokes him in the chest. She is getting mad now, too. "Stop blaming me, Tony. I stayed the night because you asked me to; I do not need you accusing me. What I did five years ago was for Angelina's own good. It was _not_ selfish. It was _not_ cowardly. Do you think I _wanted_ to leave? It was hard for me, too, Tony!" She crosses her arms over her chest, seething. "Out of _everything _I have been through in my life… this separation has been the hardest."

He has to ask. "From Angelina?"

"From both of you!" she snaps, as he suspected (maybe even hoped) that she would.

Tony recognizes the pain in her face, because he feels it, too.


	18. Chapter 18

Tony and Ziva have fought, and now they're done. They remain on those stools in Gibbs' basement, both silent, shoulders slumped in defeat. Honestly, he doesn't even possess enough willpower to be angry anymore. He is so tired, so emotionally drained.

It is he who speaks for the first time in ten minutes, and it takes quite a bit of courage for him to bring up what he does. "You're, uh… okay now, aren't you? With… Angelina."

"What do you mean?" she asks, and then understanding crosses her features. "Oh. Yes. I never would have returned had I… not gotten past that. Frankly… I am sure you don't want to hear this, but I am convinced that I got over my fear of my past, the fear of hurting her, _because_ of the sacrifice I made by leaving. I proved to myself that I could do what I needed to do for the sake of my child."

He's skeptical. "Did you keep going to therapy?"

"No. I just… moved on."

Tony is uncertain about whether he should believe this. She'd been so _terrified_ of herself five years ago, terrified enough to take drastic action. And her leaving, something that had caused him so much pain- _that_ had been her cure?

Once again, he doesn't know what to think.

"That's good," he says, almost sounding genuine.

Ziva smiles ruefully. "Well, it enabled me to see her. If only briefly."

"Yeah." He chews on his lower lip. "Are you going back to New York?"

"I was not planning on staying here," she says. "I told you that."

"I know, but…" But what? How can he possibly begin to explain that, despite all his muddled, conflicted thoughts and feelings about her, he isn't ready to let her go? "You could stick around for a couple of days."

She sighs and crosses her arms, now looking impatient. "What for, Tony? I answered the questions you had, yes? And you answered mine. I think we are done here."

"It's not a _checklist, _Ziva," he says incredulously. "It's _you and me_. We're never gonna have this… this big, definite moment of being done." _Please don't leave me again._

"Is 'a couple of days' going to morph into a lot more than that? Because that's not a good idea. To bring me back into Angelina's life at this point would be…" Ziva trails off, but she doesn't need to finish the sentence.

He knows.

Avoiding her eyes, he swallows his pride and softly admits, "She's the only reason I'm not begging you to come home with me right now. With her involved, I just don't know. I don't know."

A gentle touch on the side of his face shocks him into looking up. Ziva has scooted to the edge of her stool and is cupping his cheek and watching him tenderly, and even though this hasn't happened in so long, it's so familiar and he finds himself leaning into her palm. "You haven't moved on," she notes.

"I can't," Tony deadpans. "That was a very unrealistic thing to expect of me."

"I know. It was a poor attempt to… to lessen the blow." She rolls her lips. "There is a synagogue in New York that I attend sometimes, and every time I am there, I pray for you. For both of you, but mostly you, Tony, because I left you with such a large burden. Although my actions have given me peace as a mother, I sometimes find it difficult to live with myself as a girlfriend."

With her thumb, she strokes his cheek once, and then she drops her hand back into her lap. He misses the warmth immediately.

"I do wish you hadn't told her about me," Ziva sighs, "but what you said was true. I left you to raise her alone, and… and you did what you thought was best. I have no right to fault you for anything you've done."

Tony nods slowly. "Thanks," he says sincerely.

Suddenly, her lashes flutter rapidly, and as he watches in horror, tears well up in her eyes. "I am sorry," she says, swiping at them. "It is just that… I do miss the two of you. Knowing I did the right thing… it's not always enough…"

He is torn, unsure how she would react to comfort, so he errs on the side of caution and chooses to watch helplessly.

And then, without permission from his brain, his mouth is saying, "At least meet Angelina."

Ziva furrows her brow. "What?"

"Yeah, I mean… well." Words fail Tony, and he shrugs.

"You do not want that."

He shrugs again. "Maybe I do."

From upstairs comes a high-pitched, joyful laugh, and she pushes off of her stool. Keeping her back to him, she says, "I will think about it."

0000000000

Cold feet pressed against his leg jar him from a fitful sleep, and he yelps. "What the-"

He looks down. Angelina is blinking innocently up at him.

"Ang," he scolds halfheartedly, heart still racing. "You gotta sleep in your own bed, remember?"

"But I wanted Daddy," she says pitifully, cuddling against him. In his fragile state of mind, a result of the roller coaster of emotions he's been on, he chooses comfort over good parenting and puts his arm around her. She is concrete and dependable and perhaps the only thing in his life that is.

"Tomorrow," he says, as much to himself as to her, "after I tuck you in, you can't come in here. Big girls have to learn how to sleep by themselves."

Angelina appears unperturbed. She is probably aware that he's a sucker who will give in once she starts pouting. "Okay."

They quiet down. She rolls away from him and curls into her customary ball in the middle of the bed, and he turns onto his stomach. Just as he's about to drift off again, she says, "Daddy?"

"Angelina," he groans. "Go to sleep."

"I wanna see the picture of Mommy."

He can't deal with that right now. He just can't. "Not tonight."

There is silence, and then a small, "Oh." Never before has he denied her that limited access to her mother when she wanted it. She sounds surprised and sad, and that hurts him, so he reaches out to smooth a hand over her head.

"Tomorrow, Ang. We'll look at it tomorrow."

"Okay." But she's sniffling.

Tony sighs softly. "Baby, I love you."

"Love you, too."

He really needed to hear that.

0000000000

The next day is Monday. Since the preschool year is now over, Angelina gets dropped off elsewhere, a place where the caregivers aren't educating her, just keeping her alive. Tony's drive to work is nerve-wracking; he isn't sure who knows what about Ziva or how much he should divulge to those wanting to be clued in.

When he steps off the elevator and into the bullpen, he sees McGee, Abby, and Richie all standing around Gibbs' computer, clearly doing something they shouldn't be. He dumps his backpack behind his own desk and says, "What's up with you guys?"

"Gibbs called McGee and said he isn't coming in today," Abby announces. "And that is _not_ normal!"

Tony hadn't known if Gibbs would leave Ziva alone or not. After all, they still aren't sure of her mental state, and if left with only her thoughts for long, she could decide to run off again. He's glad to hear that Gibbs has chosen to stay with her, even though it means that he will now have to explain the leader's absence. "Listen," he begins, walking toward his teammates. "I'm gonna tell you something. Don't freak out." He looks pointedly at Abby. "And be quiet about it."

"Is everything okay?" McGee asks.

"No. Yes. I dunno." At their confusion, he says, "Ziva came back on Saturday."

Two jaws drop. One starts moving. "Back? Like, _back_ back? For good?"

"I'm not sure."

"How are you not sure? Didn't you _ask_?"

Abby is making him more exhausted than he already was, and he hadn't thought that was possible. "It's all… really complicated."

Richie looks more concerned than befuddled, and Tony is reminded of the time she turned her perceptive sensitivity- the weapon she uses to reduce tattooed men twice her size to tears- on him. "You didn't leave her with Angelina, did you?"

And his first instinct is to get mad, but he can't do that. He has the exact same reservations about whether Ziva is really okay. "Of course not," he says, and then is ashamed.

Abby opens her mouth. Tony, unable to see this ending well, cuts in before she can start up again. "Call Gibbs, okay? She stayed with him last night; he probably knows more than I do. Just… call Gibbs."

In a trance, he spins on his heel and goes elsewhere. Anywhere. He takes step after step, worrying about collapsing with each one. He doesn't know where he's going until he is there, in the men's room, leaning on the wall as he slowly slides down to sit on the floor.

0000000000

It's either a good thing or a bad thing; he isn't sure. Either way, the decision about whether he should let Ziva back in ends up being made for him.

Gibbs calls him while he's nuking a bowl of Spaghetti-O's, watching it turn around and around under the lights of the microwave. He answers the phone with a yawn and a, "Hey, Boss."

The voice that replies is definitely not Gibbs'. "It is me, Tony."

"Oh." The microwave _ding_s; he opens the door and waves at the steam that blurs his vision. "Hey to you."

Ziva says, "You sound busy."

"What? No, I'm fine. Just… hold on." Cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he sticks a spoon in the bowl and carries it over to the table. "Ang, dinner," he hollers over the din of the television, and then he heads down the hallway to his room. "Sorry," he says, shutting the door behind him. In the quiet, it occurs to him that it's _very _strange for Ziva to be calling him right now, and his heart drops. He has a feeling he won't enjoy this conversation. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to let you know," she says briskly, like she's closing a business deal, "that I am going back to New York tonight."

And there it is.

Tony finds himself sinking onto the edge of his bed, one hand over his face. It's different from last time, because she has let him know her plans instead of running off, but even so, it's achingly familiar. He allowed himself a little bit of hope, and it's being taken away.

"Okay," he says stoically. "And I'm guessing that's for good?"

There is silence, and he thinks that maybe she is reconsidering, but then she says, "Yes. It is."

He doesn't beg, doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't have the energy. And what's the point, anyway?

All he does is end the call.

**I feel like I probably need a protection detail now.**

**But guys, I promise, it's okay! Me and… a person (whom I will not name here because I'm not sure whether he/she wants to be incriminated) talked about this chapter at length and decided that sending Ziva back to New York was the only way to move the story forward.**

**Stick with me for the next chapter, okay?**

**(And thanks for reading!)**


	19. Chapter 19

The only person Tony can be mad at is himself. This is his fault. Again and again, Ziva told him that she was not staying, and he _still_ somehow managed to get it in his head that she might.

Idiot.

That's all he is, all he's ever been. A world-class idiot.

Angelina notices a change in him. She makes valiant efforts to figure out what it is, but to no avail. Every time she asks, "Why do you look sad?" he puts on a grin and says that he isn't, he's fine, and can he see what she's drawing? She always looks unsure, but drops it after giving him a hug.

McGee tells him what Abby won't- she has declared herself "done" with Ziva. This cuts a little deeper than he was expecting, and he shakes his head. "Ziva has reasons for what she did."

"I know that," McGee says, shifting uncomfortably under the elevator's florescent light. "Abby's just tired of seeing you get hurt." He pauses and looks away. "We all are."

"Yeah." They reach the lobby, and just before the doors slide open, Tony claps his partner on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"Well." McGee shrugs.

It's as close to a heartfelt conversation as they're going to get, but it leaves him feeling a little lighter.

0000000000

He has given his kid one too many chocolate chip cookies, and now she's running in circles around him. "I'm flying!"

Tony scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder. As she shrieks with laughter, he says, "Down, girl," and carries her into the living room. He plops her on the couch, turns on the TV (also known as the electronic babysitter), and returns to the kitchen table, where he has spread out several connected case files. It's been two weeks since Ziva left again, and he's been distracted and flighty at work ever since. Gibbs, McGee, and even Richie lost their patience with him today; when he was on his way out, these files were thrust into his hands.

"You better find something useful in there within the next twelve hours," Gibbs snapped before stalking off.

And so here he is.

Not finding anything useful.

There's too much going on, in the apartment and in his mind, for him to be very productive. Just as he resolves to take a break, his phone rings.

_Shit, _he thinks, guessing that it's Gibbs, but when he checks the caller ID, he doesn't recognize the number.

After a moment of staring, he realizes that it has a New York City area code. _Surely not…?_

Without thinking it through- he doesn't want to get his hopes up that it's her or that it isn't (because he isn't sure which would be better)- he answers. "Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

"Hello."

It's her.

"Ziva, what do you want?" he asks, not harshly or unkindly. He's just exasperated. Tired. Needs to move past this.

Her voice is weak and uneven, as if she's been crying, and she is tentative when she says, "I… I would like to come back to D.C."

"Don't come back, okay? You can't just… yank me around like this. I don't wanna deal with you showing up and disappearing, showing up again-"

"I meant," she interrupts, stronger now, "permanently."

Taken aback, he pauses. Then: "Huh?"

"I understand if you do not want me to. But, Tony, when you asked me to meet Angelina before, I… I wanted to. You know that, yes? I just figured that… that it would be best if I left and let everything go back to the way it was. Except… now that I've been so close to her again, I have lost the contentment I previously had with being apart from her. And I would really like… if you will allow it…" Ziva takes a deep breath, recovers from stumbling over her words. "I want to be in Angelina's life."

And now she's waiting for his response. The ball is in his court, and he doesn't know what to do with it. "Ziva… okay, listen, you can't, you know, show up for some random, sporadic visits-"

"I do not plan to. I am prepared to quit my job and move there. To… to get an apartment there. Jessica Smith will no longer exist."

Honestly, Tony is impressed, but also surprised. And then caught off guard when she adds, "At some point, eventually… perhaps you and I can… work on things."

It's probably stupid, but he'd assumed that if Ziva returned to them, it would be to _both_ of them, and that they would try to rekindle their relationship on top of rebuilding their family.

She loves him, she said.

But maybe they _should_ wait to deal with that one. After all, this situation is delicate. There are feelings of anger, betrayal, and abandonment that need to be sifted through and resolved before any of their hurts can heal.

One problem at a time.

"Tony?" she prompts quietly. "May I come back?"

"Are you serious about this?"

"I am," she says, and she sounds so desperate. "I will be involved with her as much or as little as you wish… all I want is a second chance."

"I gave you one of those," he says shortly.

"A third chance, then."

Angelina giggles at whatever it is she's watching, and Tony makes a snap decision. He's going to do it. He's going to risk this cautious happiness he's created for himself and Angelina and hope that it's replaced with something better.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. Let me know when you'll be here."

0000000000

Ziva arrives back in town on a smoldering July day. His stomach has been flipping over all week, and it's gotten worse in the past twenty-four hours. They've kept in contact; every text message he opens from her is met with a wave of great anxiety, especially the newest one: _must unload moving truck, then I am free._

His thumb hovers over the screen for a long time. He thinks about his teammates and the fact that they think he's crazy for letting her back in, and he wonders if they're right.

In the end, he replies, _come over whenever._

"You're stupid," he mutters to himself.

Tony goes into the living room and finds Angelina sprawled across the floor on her stomach, face positioned over the air vent, hair streaming behind her. "What the heck are you doing?"

"I'm hot," she says. "This feels good."

He plops down on the couch. "Hey, come here."

"Why?"

"I gotta tell you something."

She looks at him, but is reluctant to move from her spot. "What is it?"

"Come here," he says again.

Now Angelina gets to her feet, eyes narrowed somewhat suspiciously, and walks over to him. Tony pulls her into his lap.

"Ooh," she says, bouncing a little. "Sing that one song."

This kid is making it so hard for him to share this quite monumental news. "In a minute. First, we gotta talk." He rubs her cheek with his thumb to keep her attention. "Someone's coming to visit."

"Who?"

"Your mom," he blurts out, ripping it off like a Band-Aid, and braces himself for whatever reaction she's going to have.

She looks surprised, but not nearly as shocked as he'd expected. "Really?"

"Yep."

"Will she play with me?"

"I bet."

Angelina nods slowly. He is unsure what to say next, because when this conversation unfolded in his head, she _had_ been shocked, but then excited. Right now, she appears decidedly apathetic.

"She's looking forward to seeing you," Tony says.

Eyes downcast, Angelina asks, "She still loves me, right?"

He is not prepared for that one.

"Yes," he says fiercely, much more so than intended, and tilts her chin up. "Your mom has always loved you, okay? That's why she's gonna come see you. And… and you guys will have fun."

"You, too?"

"Of course," he reassures her, although he'd never had any intention of leaving Ziva and Angelina alone together. "You, me, and Mommy. We'll have a blast."

The little girl's smile makes him smile, too.

Two hours go by, then three. He's starting to believe that he can delay this forever when the doorbell rings, resounding through the apartment like a gong.

"Is that my mommy?" Angelina asks from her spot in the living room floor, where she's dragged her dollhouse and a tub of little people that go with it.

"Think so." Tony looks through the peephole. Ziva stands outside, shifting from foot to foot. He doesn't think he's ever seen her looking so apprehensive and nervous. With a deep breath- because he _really_ needs oxygen right now- he opens the door. "Hey."

Their eyes lock on each other. A thousand words pass between them in the span of a moment, but only one is said aloud: "Hello."

"Come on in." Tony steps back and watches her enter, taking in her surroundings as she does. "It's, uh… more or less the same. Just with a lot more pink stuff lying around."

Ziva chuckles. "I see."

They lapse into silence, and damn, it's awkward, but then Angelina emerges from the other room. She eyes Ziva, her expression unreadable.

"Look who's here," Tony says, feigning cheer.

Angelina wiggles a couple of fingers in a halfhearted wave. "Hi."

"Hi, Angelina," Ziva says carefully. "How are you?"

"Good. Wanna play?"

Ziva looks to him for permission. He nods and follows them back into the living room. As Angelina begins explaining the finer points of the dollhouse and her mother listens intently, he sinks into his armchair. The scene before him is something he's wished for since Ziva left. All he's wanted for so long is for her to be back, and he's glad that she is, even if that feeling has been buried beneath trepidation- but it's a long road to fixing this. Thinking about embarking on it makes him feel tired.

He's impressed at the moment, however; Ziva is playing with Angelina and actually seems to be enjoying it. She looks at his daughter- their daughter- he and Ziva are a _they_ again?- with complete adoration, just like on the day she was born, and he gets the idea that there's nowhere in the world she'd rather be.

After quite a while of hushed, peaceful play, Angelina announces, "Daddy, I'm hungry."

He checks the digital clock and finds that it's five-thirty, about two hours later than he thought it was. Where has his mind gone? It's too frazzled, he guesses, to function today. "It's almost dinner time, isn't it? What do you want to eat?"

Angelina considers his question for a moment, then turns to Ziva. "Do you like mac and cheese?"

"Oh," Ziva says, eyes widening and darting toward Tony. "Um, yes, I do, but I don't think-"

"You can stay," he tells her.

"Are you sure?"

"We can watch the water make bubbles," Angelina tells her mother. "That's my favorite part. No, no, my other favorite. My very favorite is when Daddy lets me stir the cheese!"

Ziva bites her lip and waits for a cue from him, and he's hit with the realization that she really has relinquished control of this whole deal.

And that's scary. Because that means he's in charge, and he has been known to screw things up.

"Let's show your mom the bubbles, huh?" he asks, speaking to Angelina but looking at Ziva, and leaves the plush recesses of his La-Z-Boy. They all migrate to the kitchen, where he puts a pot of water on the stove and turns up the heat.

"We gots to wait," Angelina says, apparently under the impression that Ziva has never boiled water before.

"Oh," she replies, playing along. "Okay."

"My daddy says I look like you."

Tony's muscles tense, but he relaxes when Ziva smiles. "You do. You also have your father's eyes."

And then she meets his with her own. It might be an accident or it might be on purpose; he can't be sure. Either way, something in the atmosphere shifts.

_I thought the earth moved._

Clearing his throat, he turns away and busies himself with digging through the cabinet in search of the macaroni. Ziva coughs, and Angelina says, "Mommy, do you like ponies?"

0000000000

They watch the water boil. Angelina stirs the noodles and cheese together. She dominates the dinner conversation, which both amuses her parents and gives them an excuse not to talk to each other. During a lull in Angelina's monologue, as spoons scrape the bottoms of bowls, Ziva hesitantly says, "Well, it is… getting late. I should probably go."

Tony pushes back his chair. "I'll walk you out."

She nods, then looks to Angelina. "Thank you for letting me play with you today."

"You're welcome."

"Is it okay if I… if I visit you again?"

"Yeah. We can do Play-Doh!"

"That sounds like fun," Ziva says. "I am looking forward to it."

In two seconds, Angelina has leapt from her seat and launched herself at Ziva's legs. Tony freezes. Ziva looks uncomfortable, but pats Angelina lightly on the head and murmurs, "Thank you," and everything is fine.

At the door, Tony says with forced calm, "I think that went well."

"I… I thought so too." Ziva rolls her lips and glances back in the direction of the kitchen. "She seemed suspicious of me at first."

He doesn't lie. "She was, and I'm not sure where that came from, but she warmed up to you really fast."

"So you think she would actually like for me to come back?"

"Yes," Tony says firmly.

She cocks her head to the side, and he's swept up in that gaze again. It's always gotten to him. "And you?" she asks quietly, staring intently at him as she waits for his response.

Tony is surprised by the truth he shares, because even though this is going to be hard, he saw glimpses of the old Ziva tonight. He knows she's in there, and he wants to find her.

"Yeah," he says. "I would like you to."

**Alright, guys. I'm done yanking your chain. **

**No, really, I am. This is for real.**

**Thanks for reading! Stay tuned; lots more to come!**


	20. Chapter 20

Ziva returns the next week, bearing some complicated pasta dish with a New York flavor. Angelina loves it, and normally he would, too, but all he can think about is what a sharp contrast the noodles are to the Middle Eastern recipes she used to make. It's just another reminder that she led a completely different life for five years, a life separate from her family's, and that many, many things have changed during that time.

After dinner, they all migrate into the living room, where Angelina announces that she wants to watch a movie. She pulls _Tangled_ off the shelf and hands it to Tony. He notices the uncomfortable look on Ziva's face and knows that her mind is in the same place as his. Their current situation is so strange, and yet a movie night carries a sense of familiarity. It's simple and easy and, therefore, was perfect when they were dating, struggling to do their jobs _and _have some alone time. They probably haven't done this since before Ang-

No.

They _did _have movie nights when Angelina was a baby. He had insisted on it; it'd been part of his efforts to draw Ziva out of the shell she had built around herself. And now he remembers that the last one ended with her refusing to hold the baby and, ultimately, storming off. It was the first indication that something was seriously wrong.

"Daddy! Put it in, put it in!"

"Sorry," he says, shaking his head to rid it of the vivid memory and turning toward the DVD player. He inserts the disk and goes back to the couch, watching Ziva out of the corner of his eye. She is sitting between Angelina and an armrest, one of her legs crossed over the other, hands in her lap, back straight. It doesn't seem right for her to be all prim and proper when she used to sprawl across the cushions, stick her feet in his lap, allow her arm to flop toward the floor.

Tony sinks down on the other side of Angelina, who is cheerfully ignorant of the loaded silence surrounding her. The movie's opening sequence begins, and she starts talking to Ziva in a hushed voice. He tries to focus only on the TV. That's hard to do, however, when a princess movie is on and he's sitting four feet away from the woman who single-handedly made and then broke him.

This trial continues for the duration of the movie. So many nights were spent exactly like this, minus the five year old and the G-rated show, that it's impossible not to remember them. He is hyperaware of Ziva and knows by the way she purposefully avoids eye contact that she is distracted by him, as well.

The entire hour and forty minutes they spend watching _Tangled _is excruciating, and he feels his muscles relax when the first credit rolls across the screen. He stands and stretches. "Alright, Ang. Bedtime."

"Aww," she whines with a pout.

Tony ignores her. "Tell your mom goodnight and thank her for dinner, okay?"

"Thank you, Mommy," Angelina says, crawling over to wrap her arms around Ziva's waist. "Nighty night."

Ziva stiffens before hesitantly, lightly, placing a hand on the little girl's back. "You are more than welcome, Angelina. Sleep well."

She scurries off to get ready for bed, leaving her parents alone. Ziva brushes her fingers through the ends of her hair and looks at Tony. He doesn't mention the shared history hanging heavily between them. The past is the past; better to focus on the present. "You know, she really, really likes you."

"She is wonderful," Ziva says. "You are obviously a great father."

Unsure how to respond to the compliment, he shrugs and says, "Well, stick around another half hour and you might change your mind. Trying to corral her into bed is not for the faint of heart."

She chuckles. "I will leave that to you for tonight."

"Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Ziva rises from the couch and together, they go to the door. Just as she's about to leave, she turns around, eyes bright, and says, "Thank you."

"For what?"

She shrugs. "Everything."

Tony stares at her back as she steps outside and pulls the door shut behind her. She is grateful, and what is he?

Conflicted.

Nervous.

Scared as hell.

0000000000

"So when do I get to meet the infamous Ziva David?"

Tony's head snaps up at Richie's random question. She's not looking at him; her focus is on her computer screen. He finds her nonchalance to be obnoxious. "Um, you don't."

"Why not?" Now she turns toward McGee, who shrugs. "You haven't seen her, either?"

"No."

"Neither has Gibbs. Neither has Ducky, or Abby, or Palmer," Tony cuts in, his agitation growing for a reason he can't pinpoint. "I'm sure she would like to see you guys, but, you know, everyone's pissed at us, so it's probably not the best idea."

"Nobody's pissed at _you_," Richie says.

"When I said I was gonna let her come back, you went, 'Are you off your rocker?'" he reminds her, voice rising a couple decibels.

"Well, it was a valid question," she snaps, sitting back heavily in her chair and crossing her arms. "She hurt you, abandoned your child, all under the pretense-"

"Juliet," McGee warns quietly, but it's too late. Tony is on his feet, marching to her desk, leaning over it.

"I am trying," he snarls, "to fix my family."

He storms off in the direction of the elevator, guilt for his testiness already sinking in. Not far below the surface is the knowledge that he snapped because he's stressed over this whole thing, plagued with doubts about whether it can really end well. Ziva said she was serious about being a mother to Angelina, and he believes her- for now. But he can't help wondering if he's setting his daughter up to be left again.

Still, even though everything is his fault and nothing is Richie's, he smashes the down arrow with his thumb and steps into the elevator when it arrives. He has no idea where he's going, and while he deliberates, the doors remain open just long enough for his boss to slip through.

Gibbs hits the button for the lobby, but pulls the emergency switch as soon as they start to descend. With his trademark steely-eyed glare, he says, "Richie's concerned."

Tony sighs. "I know, I'm sorry-"

"We're _all _concerned!" Gibbs interrupts. "Have you thought this through at all?"

"Yes," Tony says. _No_. Not before making his split-second decision that night Ziva called. Since then… oh, yeah. He's thought about it.

Mostly about what could possibly go wrong.

"And what did you use?" Gibbs demands. "Head or heart?"

Heart.

Definitely heart.

And yes, maybe that wasn't wise, but the heart has its merits. He levels his gaze at Gibbs and takes his chances with the prohibited, taboo topic. "Would you have let Shannon back?"

The older man's jaw tightens. "That's not relevant."

"You would have. Because you loved her, and there's never been anybody else you could be happy with. Boss, I understand what you've gone through with Shannon. Not Kelly; I can't imagine losing Ang, but Shannon… I do get it. I'll never be able to move on from Ziva, either." Tony pauses to collect his thoughts, and Gibbs waits, his expression unreadable. "If you had another chance, you'd take it. Me and Ziva and Angelina… we have another chance. I'm taking it."

Gibbs blinks a couple times, and then, with a resigned sigh, says, "Yeah, okay." It's unclear whether he's been moved by Tony's words or has just accepted that there's no fighting him. Either way, Gibbs is done yelling, and his senior field agent is relieved. "So how's it going so far?"

"Good. She's come over twice. She and Ang get along really well."

Gibbs nods slowly.

"I know what you're thinking," Tony says. "That it's a fluke. There were flukes… before."

"I'm not thinking that."

"Well, I am." He rubs the back of his neck, stares up at the ceiling. "All I do lately is wonder if I'm the biggest, most naïve dumbass to ever exist."

Gibbs takes a hard step forward. "You just told me that you're taking this chance."

"Yeah, but-"

"You've already started it. Finish it." With a flick of his wrist, Gibbs sets the elevator back in motion. "Take it for all it's worth."

**Sorry this took so long, guys. My week was really busy with Christmas stuff, and then I got a twoshot idea in my head that was just nagging at my brain until I wrote it down. I'll be quicker with the next chapter!**


	21. Chapter 21

"Where do you live, Mommy?"

Tony pauses in the act of dumping potato chips into a large bowl. He's in the kitchen and they're in the living room, where Angelina's Play-Doh table permanently resides. It's the very first time he's been one place while Ziva and Angelina were together elsewhere, out of his sight. For whatever reason, it makes him nervous, and the probing questions aren't doing anything to calm him.

Ziva responds casually, though. "I live in an apartment about ten miles from here. It is the same size as your home."

"Me and Daddy can come visit you!" Angelina exclaims. "Oh, look at my cap-illar. It's pretty."

"It is," Ziva agrees, then adds, "You will have to ask your daddy, but I would love for both of you to come over."

Might be his imagination- or wishful thinking- but Tony thinks her voice seems a bit louder, as if she wants to make sure he hears her.

He grabs the chips and starts to go rejoin them, but stops dead in his tracks when Angelina speaks again. "Daddy says you didn't see us 'cause you love me."

_Damn it._

Hidden behind the doorframe, Tony holds his breath and cranes his neck to watch the scene unfold. Oblivious to the gravity of what she just said, Angelina continues to work on her caterpillar.

Finally, after a freaking eternity, Ziva says, "Your father is right. I do love you."

Angelina brushes a braid over her shoulder and looks up. "But you didn't wanna see me?"

The breaking of Ziva's heart is visible on her stricken face. She eases herself closer to Angelina and, with only a moment of hesitation, touches the little girl's arm. Tony closes his eyes. Her next words are nearly drowned out by the rushing of his blood. "I wanted to see you, Angelina. There was nothing I wanted more. But I was not able to."

"Why?"

"I would not have been a good mother when you were younger. But I…" Her voice wavers. "I think that I can be a good mother now."

"'Cause you love me?"

"Yes."

"I guess I love you, too."

Silence. Tony grimaces at the wording- _I guess_; why did she say that?- and counts to three before opening his eyes and peeking back into the living room. Ziva's arms are wound tightly around Angelina, the first real hug she's given her daughter. Her face is pressed against Angelina's hair, but Tony can still see that she is crying.

He inhales deeply, relieved, and turns away. The joy of hearing Angelina say 'I love you' to him for the first time is something he'll never forget, and it's sad that Ziva hasn't had that experience before now. He's going to let her savor it.

0000000000

Later, when Ziva is preparing to leave, he sends Angelina to wash Play-Doh off her hands. Once she is gone, he goes to Ziva and says, "Hey."

She smiles weakly. "Hi."

"Listen… what Ang said earlier? About you not wanting to see her? Don't let it bother you. She's… she's at that stage, you know, where she's always wondering stuff and everything's a question…"

"It was a valid thing to ask, Tony."

"Maybe, but-"

"I really do not mind," she interrupts gently. "I asked my father the same question many times."

His jaw drops in surprise, then rises back into place. What she said is probably true, but the comparison of herself to her father irks him. Eli David chose his job over his family. Ziva, in her mind, chose Angelina's safety over the desire to stay with her.

Maybe there are flaws in her logic, but any way you cut it, her decision is a lot more honorable.

"I told her that I love her," Ziva says, biting her thumbnail worriedly.

"I heard."

"Should I not have done that?"

Tony shrugs. "Dunno why not. She asked."

"Okay," she says, but doesn't look entirely convinced.

Before receiving permission from his brain, his hand reaches out and squeezes the shoulder of this woman he loves, even now, even after the havoc he's wreaked on his life and heart. "You're doing a good job, Ziva."

"I hope so." She pats his hand with her own. Silence falls, only to be broken by her. "I meant to ask you. What do you think Angelina would like for her birthday?"

It's so surreal, the fact that she's actually going to be around when Angelina turns a year older, that there will be a present picked out by Mommy. He just never expected this to be the case. "Books. Anything with Dora on it." Something occurs to him, and he leans toward her. For some reason, this feels like it should be discussed quietly. "Listen, I know you haven't seen them since you got back, but the team usually comes over for her birthday. We eat cake, whatever. You can come if you want."

Ziva sighs and peeks past him. He turns just in time to see Angelina scurry into her bedroom. When she doesn't emerge, Ziva says, "I did go to see Gibbs a couple of days ago."

Tony studies her face. "How was it?"

"We talked for a long time. He… he understands my motivation for… leaving, but warned me that the others…" She laughs humorlessly. "The others are not as forgiving. And I cannot blame them for that. But, Tony, I have missed five of her birthdays. I really… if it's okay with you… I do not want to miss another one."

"Then come. Everyone else can suck it up," he declares, sounding much more confident than he feels.

She smiles. Angelina reappears, bearing a piece of paper with something unidentifiable drawn on it. "I made this for you yesterday!" she tells Ziva.

Her mothers takes it, handles it, as if it's a Van Gogh. "Beautiful, Angelina. I will hang it on my fridge."

0000000000

Ziva gets a job as a secretary, and it sinks in for Tony that she's _really_ staying, that she's going to be a part of Angelina's- and his- future.

As usual, he has mixed feelings about this.

Abby's feelings are not conflicted at all. She is relentless in her anger. When Tony pays a visit to her lab to try and persuade her to give Ziva another chance, she will not look at him. She pounds on her keyboard, focuses on the computer screen. "No."

"She's here for good, Abby. It's gonna be really hard to avoid her. You might as well just… hop on board."

"I'll pass."

"You know, I haven't fully forgiven her, either," Tony says. "Not yet. And maybe there'll always be a part of me that wonders why, but that's okay. I'm setting it aside so my daughter can have her mother back. That's what matters. So can you please, _please_ be civil to Ziva for a few hours so Ang can have her mom _and _her aunt on her birthday?"

Abby finally turns around, but only to glare at him. "Tony DiNozzo, are you using that precious, doe-eyed, pigtailed child against me?"

"Yep."

"I hate you."

"Join the club."

She groans. "Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I'll do it… for you and Angelina. I'm still mad at Ziva."

And, as promised, she does come for Angelina's sixth birthday on the seventeenth of August, marble cake in hand like every year. The rest of the team arrives soon afterward, and the adults gather in the kitchen while Angelina plays with Jacob, Palmer and Breena's son. They speak in hushed voices, anticipating Ziva's arrival. Tony barely talks at all; he's too nervous.

He shouldn't have invited her.

How had this ever seemed like a good idea?

Idiot.

When she arrives and he's leading her into the kitchen, he watches out of the corner of his eye as her shoulders tense and feels his own doing the same thing. There is no sound coming from any of his teammates, and this is bad, really bad-

"Hi, Mommy!" Angelina exclaims, waving excitedly. "It's my birthday!"

"I know," Ziva says with a genuine smile, setting down two colorfully wrapped packages. "You are a big girl. Six years old!"

Angelina holds up six fingers. Beside her, Jacob tries to imitate it. "This many!"

"Very good," Ziva says. All eyes are trained on this mother-daughter interactioin, but then Angelina returns her attention to her toddling sidekick. Ziva looks at the others and, somewhat uncomfortably, greets them. "It is nice to see you all."

"You too, my dear," Ducky says, sending her a small smile. Everybody else echoes him, if in a less enthusiastic manner, and Gibbs asks how she is. Tony gets the idea that only the three of them know about Ziva's visit to the basement.

They make small talk, and he starts to relax. Angelina and Jacob keep the mood lighter than it would be otherwise. Candles are lit, 'Happy Birthday' is sung, cake is served. Tony watches Ziva keenly observe all the festivities. Abby is the one handing out plates, and he holds his breath as she takes grudging steps toward Ziva.

"Want some?" she asks.

"Yes. Thank you." Ziva smiles, Abby nods, and it's over. And it's fine.

Just as Tony recommended to anyone who asked, Angelina's presents consist of toys featuring Dora and books, with one notable exception, and that's Gibbs' traditional wood masterpiece. This year it's a bookcase. Angelina wants to put her new books in it, and Tony lets her, even though he knows he'll have to unload them when he goes to move it later.

Really, it's a good day. Even though everyone sticks to safe topics and rarely does any adult address Ziva directly, nobody gives her the cold shoulder. Once, he does overhear Abby say, "So, I'm mad at you, but… I've missed you."

Ziva's response is too soft for him to hear- or maybe he is preoccupied with the sudden swelling of his heart and the burning behind his eyes.

Hope.

This is what actual hope feels like.

**Happy New Year, everyone!**


	22. Chapter 22

On top of everything else going on, Tony has to worry about sending his little girl off to kindergarten. It feels like so long that they were without Ziva, yet that same period of time seems to have passed quickly in the sense that he can't believe how grown up Angelina is. She's excited, but also nervous, and he is the same. For every question she asks, he has one of his own, the answers to which he searches for in the informational packets the elementary school has sent.

Aside from the fact that he _still_ has letting go issues (his newest parenting book says it's natural, but that doesn't mean he has to like it), kindergarten is stressful in and of itself. There are shots Angelina has to get, skills she's supposed to master before the first day. The only one of these she really struggles with is using scissors correctly- Tony knows from the preschool teachers that she has a habit of cutting paper into eighteen pieces instead of, say, three. He begins sitting her down every day for "scissors practice," which does help while simultaneously inflating his ego, because is he good, or what?

Then there's the shopping. Crayons, number two pencils, markers, a backpack, an art box. New jeans, shirts, sneakers, a fall jacket. Angelina takes forever to choose between colors and styles; she only makes decisions when Tony threatens to make them for her. They knock all of this out in one day, but the work is not done with the final swipe of his debit card- there is a lot of organizing to do at home. He tells her to hang the clothes in the closet, and he tackles the school supplies, which all, apparently, must be labeled.

Her name is fifteen letters long, and it's a lot to write over and over and over again. By the time he's done, he's groaning and clutching his hand in pain- which is probably a bit of an overreaction, but not much. Next year, he'll be making her do this.

Labor Day, the last day of summer, comes and goes. That night, Angelina crawls into his lap, plants her face in his shoulder, and says that she doesn't want to go to school. Tony puts on a calm façade and soothes her, repeats, "You're gonna have fun," like a mantra. She nods as if she believes him, yet she won't let go of his shirt. Eventually, he carries her to her bedroom and stays there another hour before she finally falls asleep. Then he wanders back down the hall, into the living room, alone with his own anxieties.

He just doesn't like leaving her in new places. That's all. Especially _this _new place, elementary school, where eleven year olds run wild and there's a twenty to one teacher-student ratio and Angelina will sometimes have to walk around the huge building by herself.

And… maybe he's also not ready for it to be time for this.

_Kindergarten_.

Wasn't she a baby yesterday?

When he thinks about tomorrow, about walking her to the classroom and having to convince her to stay when she doesn't want to and he doesn't want her to, his stomach turns over. He really feels like he needs somebody else there with him, somebody to ground him, and as he ponders this, it becomes abundantly clear who, exactly, he needs.

He dials her cell phone number with its New York City area code. It rings twice before she answers. "Hello?"

Tony is comforted by her voice. They have only just begun the process of rebuilding their relationship- and it's unclear what, exactly, that relationship _is_- but she used to be his best friend, and even today, two facts remain: he's never been as comfortable with anybody as he once was with her, and she is the mother of his child.

Right now, Ziva is the only person who can help him.

"Hey," he says hoarsely. He clears his throat and tries again. "Sorry to bother you."

"You are not bothering me," she says. "I was just reading a book. How is Angelina?"

Lowering himself onto the couch, Tony replies, "Still nervous. That's… actually what I called about. Do you have to work in the morning?"

"Not until ten."

"Well, school starts at eight-thirty. You wanna come over here around eight? The three of us can ride up together."

Ziva is quiet, and his heart sinks. He wants to apologize, he wants to say never mind, but he can't form words. At long last, it is she who speaks. "Why?"

"I mean… you don't have to, but-"

"No, Tony, I would love to."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, um… do you _want_ me to come?"

He exhales. "I really, really do."

More silence, but this time, it doesn't last long enough for him to become unnerved. "Then I will see you tomorrow."

0000000000

"You ready, Ang?"

Tony and Ziva turn around in the front seat of the car to peer at Angelina, sitting in the back. She is staring out the window at her new school. When she sighs, she sounds twenty years older than she is. "I guess."

Her parents glance at each other, unsure how to proceed. They've spent the past ten minutes hyping up kindergarten, but obviously that has had no effect on Angelina. With a forced grin, Tony undoes his seatbelt and says, "Let's hit it, then!"

As they walk toward the front doors, she wedges in between Tony and Ziva and grabs their hands. He sees Ziva look down, surprised, but then she smiles contentedly.

He becomes a tiny bit calmer.

There's a sign in the building which declares that this is the only day parents may walk their children to their classrooms. The thought of Angelina wandering through here alone tomorrow freaks him the hell out, so he narrates their journey to the kindergarten wing in hopes that she'll remember how to get there. "We're going past that green painting… past the gym… turning left right here by the plant, see?"

"Uh-huh," she keeps saying. He's pretty sure she's just humoring him.

When they reach her teacher's classroom, there are already a bunch of kids inside. Several more stand by the door, waiting to talk to a clipboard-wielding lady- the teacher, he assumes.

It's time to say goodbye.

This is the moment he's been dreading for weeks.

He lowers himself to her level, aware of Ziva's presence beside him and very grateful for it. Grabbing Angelina's hands, he says, "Your teacher will show you where the after-school care is. You're gonna hang out there for a while, and I'll come pick you up." Tony leans his forehead against hers. "Have a good day, okay?"

"Okay," she says, kissing him quickly. Then she pulls back and shakes him off in order to wrap her arms around Ziva's legs. "Bye, Mommy. Bye, Daddy."

And then, tension evident in her little shoulders, she walks over to stand with her teacher and new classmates.

She doesn't cry.

She doesn't beg to stay with him.

She obviously doesn't want to be here… but she puts on a brave face and goes to face kindergarten by herself.

Tony stares after her, stays in his crouching position until a hand touches his back. He startles and looks up.

Ziva smiles. It doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We need to go now, yes?"

"Uh." He hears Angelina's voice, but can't make out her specific words. _This is good, _he tells himself. _It's good that she's being independent. _"Yeah."

He gets to his feet, and she falls into step beside him as they start back toward the front of the school. There is noise all around them, but they make none.

Why does he feel so off? That's what this is. Something inside just doesn't make sense. Is he hurt? Because she didn't pitch a fit about staying?

_Yes, _he must admit to himself. He is hurt.

But that's not why.

He and Ziva emerge from the school, cool September air hitting their faces as they do, and she puts a hand on his arm. Her touch burns through the sleeve of his jacket. Before he can think of something to say, she asks, "Are you okay?"

Tony chuckles humorlessly.

Her fingers curl around his elbow and only release it when they approach the car and go to their separate sides. While he's fumbling with his keys, he knows she is staring at him, but he remains focused on the task at hand. Not until they are both inside does he meet her eyes. "Wasn't expecting that to go so smoothly."

Ziva adjusts herself so that she is facing him. He has yet to turn the car on; the keys hang in the ignition. "How come?"

"I've never been able to drop her off anywhere for the first time without some resistance. She's always been fine by the second day, but it's hard for her to get started." He drums his fingers against the steering wheel and stares out the windshield at a barely yellowed tree. "Sometimes I think I'm more attached to her than she is to me."

And there- _that_ is the actual reason he's being an idiot right now. A hurt, shunned idiot.

It's ridiculous. She's six. He's in his forties.

Who's the adult here?

"And, you know," he finds himself elaborating, "aside from when you left that letter, the worst day of my life was my first day away from her. I had to go to work, but… Ziva, I _missed_ you like hell. I wanted to be near Angelina; she was all I had. And she wanted to be with me, too, and it's always been like that, me and her, but now _I_ still need that and I guess she doesn't-"

"Tony, stop." Ziva is touching his arm again, gripping it firmly, drawing him back to earth. "Look at me."

He obeys, wondering if he went too far, if he shouldn't have let her know what a mess he was after she left. Does she think him weak now?

She stares at him, eyes burning, serious as he's ever seen them. "Angelina will always need you. You are her daddy; your world revolves around her, and hers around you. Our daughter looks at you with stars in her eyes, Tony." Ziva's voice becomes a whisper. "I have seen it." She clasps his hand. That's surprising, but he is even more taken aback when _he_ squeezes _her_ fingers, hard. "I can only hope that someday, she looks at me the same way."

And so they sit, alone in the car, each with a private worry about the little girl who will always bind them together, regardless of what else happens.

**I write so many of these author's notes, I never know what to say in them. :P So… hi. And bye. And thanks for reading. :D**


	23. Chapter 23

**To Bella Paige- sorry about the confusion over where Ziva lives. She did move back to D.C., but her cell phone is based out of New York City, so it still has that area code. : )**

"Oh, you're in for a treat," Tony tells Ziva as he pushes the shopping cart in the direction of the seafood department. "We are approaching the climax of our grocery store experience."

Angelina, seated amidst the bread and boxed pasta, claps her hands excitedly. "The lobsters!"

"Yes," he drawls. Ziva cocks an eyebrow, and he nods to a display case as they stop beside it. Behind clear glass, three large, live lobsters move in water. "Don't tell me you don't think this is exciting," he adds with a smirk.

She smiles, then looks on as Angelina leans over the edge of the cart. "They're so cute!"

"I've never really explained to her the concept of killing and eating them," Tony says lowly, and Ziva nods, still watching their daughter. Sometimes he gets the feeling that she is trying to absorb as much of Angelina as she can to make up for that lost time.

"Come see!" Angelina insists, gesturing wildly toward her parents. They go to stand on either side of her, and while she deliberates which one is her favorite, they exchange an amused look over the top of her head.

0000000000

September is a good month. Tony, Ziva, and Angelina continue to do things together- menial, everyday things like run errands and eat dinner and go to the park. Ziva and Angelina's relationship is progressing nicely, which he's happy about, really- but Ziva never stays long after the little girl is in bed, and that makes him wonder when, if ever, the two of them will rekindle _their_ relationship.

Even with this pressing question always present in the back of his mind, Tony enjoys being around her and seeing her as a mother. Angelina, with her above-average literary skills, enjoys reading books aloud to them; Ziva looks at the pictures, gasps in all the right places, and says, "That was very good, Angelina," when the story is over. She exhibits an enthusiasm for games like Chutes and Ladders that even he, after six years of practice, cannot muster. Recently, she's grown much more comfortable returning Angelina's hugs or touching her cheek just because. He leaves them alone now; going into another room doesn't bother him at all. It's pretty low-stress, relative to how nervous he was about this at first.

In early October, he and Angelina go to Ziva's for the first time. They're fifteen minutes late because her new apartment is tucked behind some trees and it takes him quite a while to realize that. Once they're standing in front of her door, he tells Angelina, "That was quite a journey, huh? We battled the wilderness and took down a mountain lion to get here."

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, seems to decide that his exaggerated description of the debacle doesn't warrant a response, and rings the doorbell.

Ziva comes to the door and can't get a word out before Angelina bounds inside, nearly running her mother over in the process. Tony follows them, hands stuck awkwardly in his pockets. His eyes dart all over the place, taking in her furniture and décor. All of it is new, yet familiar. She is still a fan of that dark cherry finish. On her coffee table is a stack of books in at least three different languages. There's no television. Everything is neat, orderly, but not overly so. It's just… _Ziva._

"Look, Angelina," she says. "I have something for you." Tony follows her voice and pokes his head into the kitchen. She is holding a Hershey's bar in her open palm. "You like chocolate, yes?"

"Yeah, but Daddy says it makes me hyper."

"Oh…" Ziva purses her lips and brings her hand up to her chest. She glances apologetically over at him. "I am sorry, I did not know-"

Tony waves his hand dismissively. "Nah, go ahead and give it to her. It's Friday. If she's nice to me, I _might_ let her stay up late tonight, anyway." He catches Angelina's eye and winks. She giggles, then tears through the candy wrapper.

They eat something Ziva calls "sausage rolls"- a New York deal, he guesses. In any case, they're amazing, and he's actually paying much more attention to the food than his kid until she says, "Mommy, we should have a sleepover!"

Ziva's eyes immediately dart over to Tony, although she responds to Angelina. "Hmm?"

"I gots a sleeping bag," she says.

"You think it'd be fun to stay at Mommy's?" he asks her.

"Yeah!"

He takes another bite of his roll so he has an excuse to stay quiet. Leaving Angelina with Ziva overnight is a whole different ballgame than what he's grown used to. It's not a fear that Ziva could hurt her; over the previous weeks and months, he's become convinced that she really is past that. He's uncomfortable in the same way he was on her first day at kindergarten. This is worse, though, because there's a history here, a hard and painful one. Every step they take- and, admittedly, they've been on step one for quite a while now- must be considered carefully before it's taken.

"Well, we'll think about it. Maybe you and Mommy could do that sometime," Tony tells Angelina, and it seems to satisfy her for now. He turns toward Ziva. She is staring down at her plate.

After dinner, Ziva suggests taking a walk, and he readily agrees. The air in the apartment has gotten a little too thick and wrought with tension for his taste. For a couple minutes, Angelina trots along happily between her parents, but then she runs several feet in front of them. Tony takes a deep breath and says, "So. Uh… you wanna do the sleepover thing?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "You do not want her to stay with me."

"It's not you."

Ziva scoffs.

"No," he insists. "Really. It's just… well, you know. I have that thing where I like her attached to my side. I need to let it go-"

"You don't trust me."

Tony sighs heavily and glances at Angelina. She is tossing autumn leaves into the air. "I trust you fine."

She is silent, and he uses that silence to debate with himself. If he wants Ziva to be a mother- and he does- then Angelina needs to have bonding time with her, and he can't realistically expect to facilitate every interaction they have. He could delay this, but it will have to happen at some point. And, well, it'll be good for all three of them.

"I trust you," he assures Ziva again. "Tell me when you want her."

0000000000

Two weeks later, on a Friday night, Tony drives Angelina over to Ziva's after dinner. She takes her overnight bag from him, returns his kiss and "I love you", and disappears inside the apartment with all the confidence of somebody who has everything under control.

He walks slowly back to the car, feeling defeated for no particular reason. Briefly, he considers going out to a sports bar or another place he hasn't been in years, but he's not in the mood. Too tired. Or too lazy. Nothing sounds more appealing to him than home, so that's where he goes. He grabs a juice box and deliberately chooses an R-rated movie in order to feel like he's made good use of his night off from parenting.

He falls asleep on the couch, but doesn't realize it until the ringing of his phone jars him awake. The movie is over; the main menu is back on the TV screen. It's difficult, but through his hazy consciousness, he manages to locate the phone. "'Lo."

"Tony?"

It's Ziva, and now he remembers that Angelina is with her. Glancing at the clock, he sees that it is 2:16 in the morning, and his stomach twists in fear. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently.

"Um… nothing. Nothing except that she had a nightmare."

Tony closes his eyes, relieved, and drops his forehead into his hand. He takes a moment to recover his voice. "Okay. She's fine; you'll probably just have to sit with her until she falls back asleep."

"I was going to, but she wants you." The hurt in her words is unmistakable.

With a sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Listen, I… I can't come over there. I sometimes coddle her already-"

"Tony, _please_ come over. She is sobbing. I held her and I tried singing to her, but she says she needs you. I do not know what else to do."

She is pleading with him. Her desperation combined with the mental image of his scared little girl is enough to get him off the couch. "Just… do your best to keep her calm."

"Okay."

He locates his shoes and slides his feet into them. "I'll be right there."

0000000000

"Where is she?"

"Guest room at the end of the hall."

Tony heads in the direction Ziva is pointing and finds the room she's talking about. It's the only one with a light on. Inside, Angelina is curled up on a futon, blanket pulled to her chin, face streaked with tears. He flicks the light off and goes to kneel beside her. "Hey there, sweet thing."

"Daddy," she chokes out, winding her arms around his neck.

"Shhh. Daddy's here. It's okay. Everything is a-okay." He rubs her back and keeps talking as drops of saltwater land in the crook of his shoulder. Within two minutes, her tears are gone, and he tucks her back in. A few more minutes, and she drifts off.

His work here done, he goes back into the hallway. Ziva is nowhere to be seen. He hesitantly enters the living room and finds her sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. She doesn't turn around when he clears his throat, so he begins to speak awkwardly. "Um. She's asleep. I don't think she's ever had two nightmares in one night, so… you should be good now."

Ziva looks over at him. "That didn't take you long," she notes in a monotone.

"I have a lot of practice."

"And I do not," she sighs sadly.

Tony chews on the inside of his cheek, unsure what he should say to that. He takes a couple steps toward her. "You're still learning. You'll get there."

She shakes her head and props her chin in her hand. For the first time, he notices her pajamas: plaid pants, a thermal t-shirt. Pretty much what he remembers. "Perhaps it is too late."

"It's not too late," he says, more sharply than he means to. "It's been, what? Four months? You guys are still getting to know each other."

"I am just afraid… that the time for that has passed. Did we deceive ourselves, Tony? Is it _possible_ for Angelina and I to have a healthy relationship?"

He hesitates, then slowly lowers himself to sit beside her, though he puts a good eighteen inches between them. "I think so."

"How? How can that be, when I have missed so much?"

Tony shrugs. Swallows. Proceeds carefully, because she and her confidence are so very fragile, and so is his heart. "The past is the past. You're here now. That's what counts."

"Tony, I will never have the kind of relationship with her that you do. I am dispensable in her life; should we even _be_-"

"Listen to me." He reaches out, grabs her upper arms, and pulls her toward him. They are so close that he can hear her heavy breathing, and he leans even closer as he harshly whispers, "You. Are. _In_dispensable. You always have been, but it's _especially_ true now that she's gotten to know you. If you dropped out of her life, she would be crushed. And honestly, I don't know if I'd be able to cope with it again. So shut up and go back to bed, and I'll go home and come get her in the morning and we can forget this happened." Ziva shudders, as if she's just gotten a chill, and he moves one of his hands to the side of her head. "Alright? Are you with me?"

"Yes." She is either convinced or intimidated; he can't tell which. It's not important, though. What's important is her answer.

Tony nods solemnly, strokes her cheekbone once without thinking about it. Anger dissipates; determination remains. "This is gonna work."

It has to.


	24. Chapter 24

"Hey, Ang?" Tony asks on their way to school the following Monday. He glances at her in the rearview mirror. "Do you think you'd like to have another sleepover with your mom sometime?"

"Yeah," she says. "I had fun!"

He nods slowly, eyes on the road. "Good. I'm glad. I have a question for you, though."

"Okey dokey."

They come to a red light. He brakes, and once the car has come to a complete stop, he twists around in his seat. Angelina toys with the end of her left braid. "You remember me coming over? After you had your nightmare?"

She shakes her head no, but then says, "Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Mommy tried to help you first, didn't she?"

Tongue poking out the side of her mouth, she averts her eyes. "Uh-huh. But, but Daddy, you makes my dreams better. So I needed you."

Tony checks the stoplight. It's still red, so he reaches back and pats her denim-clad knee. "Listen, sweetie. If you go back to Mommy's, I won't be able to come over again, okay? If you have a bad dream or anything, you'll have to let her take care of it."

Angelina juts out her lower lip. Tony holds her gaze, refusing to give in to the pout as he has many times before. Finally, she relents. "Okay."

"You don't have to if it'll make you uncomfortable," he reminds her.

"No, I wanna go. Mommy made me yummy pancakes, and there wasn't even any smoke like when you make 'em."

He stares at her until she points past him and says, "The light's green."

0000000000

When he dashes into the squad room, he is ten minutes late. He bounds to his desk, tosses down his backpack, and looks wildly around for Gibbs. Fortunately, the boss man is nowhere to be found- but just as he relaxes, he notices that somebody besides Richie is standing across from him.

Oh.

Dear.

Lord.

"What are you doing here?" he asks Ziva. Richie's bright red lips curl into a smirk.

"Gibbs told me about an open position in International Relations," she says somewhat nervously. "He thought I'd be interested."

Tony cranes his neck to see the door to the director's office. Closed. "You didn't tell me about that."

"He just called me yesterday."

"Huh," he says, trying for nonchalance when he's actually feeling really irritated. Not so much at her, though, as at Gibbs. It's not rational- he doesn't need to be informed of every interaction Ziva has with anybody else- but it still feels as if they've gone behind his back somehow. Tony pushes it to the back of his mind and changes the subject. "So. You two sharing stories? While we're at it, I'm sure Ziva would love to hear about the time you shot McGee in the foot, Probie."

"He startled me," Richie says, glaring in her victim's direction. Tony hadn't noticed McGee before now, probably because he is immersed (or pretending to be immersed) in his computer.

"We were just chatting," Ziva cuts in. "I am waiting for Gibbs."

"I was telling her, I finally understand why Angelina's so pretty. I knew it couldn't possibly be because of you," Richie says, and despite her teasing tone, he knows she's been sizing up Ziva. She may be annoying as hell, but she's a good partner.

"David!"

The three of them turn toward the voice. Gibbs, standing at the top of the stairs, motions for her to join them.

"Excuse me," Ziva says, and hurries away. Thirty seconds later, she and Gibbs disappear into Vance's office. Tony collapses into his desk chair, tries to imagine what they're saying up there and what it would be like to work in the same building as Ziva again.

"She seems nice," Richie says.

"That's a loaded comment."

"No. It was an observation."

"A _loaded_ observation."

They glare at each other.

"Just tell me," he orders.

"She _is_ really pretty. Very exotic-looking."

"She's Israeli."

"I know."

Tony grabs a case file and starts flipping through it. If Richie wants to be cryptic, fine, but he's not going to deal with her.

"Just be careful, please," she says, so softly he almost doesn't hear. The use of that last word stuns him, but she is now busy pulling makeup out of the top drawer of her desk, and he doesn't reply.

0000000000

He just happens to be in the elevator when Ziva gets in. (Yeah, right. It's totally intentional.) She hits the button for the lobby and they begin to descend, both facing forward. When he can't take the silence any longer, he says, "How did it go?"

"Good." She sounds stiff, formal. "I am returning tomorrow for an interview with the director of International Relations."

"That's great," he says with a forced smile. "Hope it goes well."

Suddenly, the elevator stops. They are cast into an eerie blue light. Ziva takes her hand off of the emergency button and steps in front of him. "Tony, if this is not okay with you, I will say no thanks, and I will not come back here."

He looks down. Her face and eyes and words are completely sincere, and he feels a rush of affection for her. _When are we going to try being us again?_ "I just wish Gibbs had asked me first. Not that I'm trying to keep tabs on you or anything, but I feel like this concerns me, too."

"It does."

"Yeah, so…" Tony sighs. "I dunno."

"Gibbs… he is trying to help. That is all. He knows I would rather be here than at that dentist's office. He wants to help me and, by extension, you and Angelina." Ziva cocks her head to the side, pats his chest once. "However, yes, he probably should have informed you. I am sure that finding me here, talking to your new partner…" Her voice falters a bit on _partner_. "I am sure that was surprising."

As he studies her, he decides that he is going to try hard not to hold a grudge against Gibbs. Maybe he's been snubbed, but he is realizing now that he does want her here.

And, more importantly, there is something being sought here.

_Permanence._

She is looking for permanence in her new life when just the other night she was talking about giving up on it.

"Go to the interview," he says, and her brow furrows.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He reaches over to set the elevator back in motion. "And, Ziva? Just so you know. Richie's fine, but she can't replace you."

Ziva looks at him, surprised, a slow smile spreading across her face. He finds himself returning it, and they stand there, grinning like a couple of idiots, until the elevator doors open with a _ding_.

0000000000

She gets the job.

He takes her out to lunch on her first day.

It's the only time since she returned that they've done something, just the two of them, that doesn't involve Angelina. The awkwardness fades relatively quickly, and then they fall so easily, so naturally, into that give-and-take that has been present in their relationship since the day they met- but now, it is not banter, exactly; it is meaningful. Because they inherently know that they still love each other, and they have a child together, and there is just so much _between_ them. And no, neither of them cares to penetrate these topics over their grilled chicken and fries, but the history is certainly felt, hovering in the air, a reminder that then and now cannot be easily separated, no matter how hard they try to keep the two apart.

Something will have to give.

**Everybody okay out there after Shabbat Shalom?! Yowza.**

**Thanks for reading, and I adore reviews… wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.**


	25. Chapter 25

"Sit," Tony orders.

Angelina laughs loudly and ducks away from his grasping hands. He groans loudly and watches as she darts over to her bucket of Halloween candy, the skirt of her princess costume swirling around her legs. "I want another Kit-Kat."

"You've had enough. Ziva, take that and put it on top of the fridge, would you?"

"No," Angelina wails, but her mother gently dislodges the bucket from her grip and carries it out of the room. Tony, taking advantage of the diversion, scoops her up and brings her over to the couch. Once she is seated there, he holds her face between his hands.

"Calm. Down."

She giggles, flashing a toothy, chocolaty grin. This is his kid on a sugar high. "Daddy, I want more candy."

"I said no, Ang. Count to ten for me, okay? Here we go. One, two, three…"

"_Cuatro, cinco, seis_," she continues, voice dropping down to a normal level. "_Siete, ocho, nueve, diez_."

"Good job. Now, do you think you can _walk _to your room and put on your pajamas?"

Angelina nods. He steps back and watches her trot away. She's still got quite a bit of bounce in her step, but she's manageable now.

"That was impressive," Ziva says, leaning against the doorframe.

He puts his hands on his hips and breathes out heavily, like he's just finished running a marathon. "She wears me out."

Ziva smirks, slips her hand into her pocket. "Here. A reward for your troubles."

She walks over to him and holds out a Crunch bar. He opens it, bites half of it off at once. "That's good. Thanks."

"Don't tell Angelina, but I took one, too," she says, wiggling her eyebrows slyly, and suddenly this entire scene- the two of them standing in the living room, stealing their daughter's Halloween candy- seems so homey and _right_. It's how things are supposed to be.

"Your secret's safe with me," Tony tells her. Because it is.

0000000000

Thirty minutes to corral Angelina into bed. It's not bad, considering. Both Tony and Ziva tuck her in, which is a first and, he hopes, not a last. She revels in their attention and either forgets or doesn't bother to ask Tony to stay until she falls asleep. As they leave her room, she calls, "Sleep tight, Mommy. Sleep tight, Daddy," and he sees Ziva's eyes well up.

They go back into the living room quietly. It feels sort of like the awkward end of a first date, and, on a whim, he tries to amend it by asking, "You wanna stay?"

She looks at him, surprised. "To do what?"

"Uh." _Yeah, DiNozzo. To do what?_ "We could have some more candy."

He immediately berates himself- what are they, _nine?_ She takes several moments to think about it, and though she seems legitimately interested, a feeling of dread sets in. Rejection would not be good for his ego, pride, or sanity.

But then Ziva walks toward the kitchen, and he follows her. She whisks Angelina's purple bucket off the top of the fridge and dumps its contents on the table.

"You see why I drive her over to the rich neighborhood?" he asks, pointing at the large pile. He grabs a packet of Bottle Caps. "We always clean up."

"We?" Ziva teases.

"Well. I benefit from the fruits of her trick-or-treating, too," he says. "I took her out for the first time when she was one. She couldn't eat most of what she got, so…"

Ziva's jaw drops. "You used her!"

"Pretty much. My holiday weight gain started a little early that year."

They laugh together. He roots around in the candy, finds a Tootsie Roll. His favorite. "How's work?"

"Good. Everybody has been very welcoming." Ziva looks up at him, then quickly redirects her gaze downward. "I was afraid that they wouldn't be. Surely they have heard… of me."

Tony chews, the hard taffy making it difficult to separate his teeth. How to tell her that for several months, she was the most fascinating topic in the NCIS rumor mill? "Yeah. I think they probably have."

She raises an eyebrow. "How much, Tony?"

He shrugs. "Not a whole lot of truth, I would guess. All anyone outside of our team and Vance knows for sure is that you and I have a daughter, and that when she was nine months old, you…"

"Left," she finishes.

"Disappeared," he corrects, because it sounds less accusatory.

She closes her eyes and flattens one of her palms against the tabletop. "This is where I left the note."

"I know," Tony says. The words are out before he can think them through, but it's okay. He remembers _exactly_ where that note lay, and he's not ashamed of it.

"That morning, I went into Angelina's room and stood over her crib. I stared at her for ten minutes, trying to memorize every single detail… delaying my departure. I did not want to go, Tony. It was the last thing I wanted."

Unsure whether he can take more of her narrative, he says, "It's okay-"

"It's not," Ziva interrupts, glaring at him now. "I could not even kiss her. I was terrified of touching her… I whispered that I loved her. And then I turned to you."

Tears have entered her voice and eyes, and he is the one shutting his now. The image she's painting in his mind is painful, too painful. "Stop. Please stop."

In spite of his pleas, she proceeds. "You were lying on the floor, with no regard for your own discomfort, because I asked you to. You did so much for me and Angelina during those months. I have never properly thanked you for that."

"You don't have to, Ziva," and he is crying, too, and why won't she just _shut up?_

"Yes, I do." She comes around to his side of the table, dragging her hand against the edge of the wood. And then she places it on his face in a caressing, warm touch. "I did kiss _you_ that morning, Tony. On the forehead. And that was it."

_That was it._

For five years. That was it.

"Why didn't I wake up?" he asks hoarsely. If he had, he could have stopped her. If he had…

"You were tired," Ziva says with a rueful smile. "From taking care of Angelina. From… dealing with me."

Tony makes a strangled sound, seizes her fingers, moves them from his moist cheek to his lips for a desperate kiss. She is shocked, he can tell, but he doesn't care. "Ziva, I loved you. I _still_ love you. You weren't a _chore_. I was going to do whatever it took to get you back to being yourself, because I _wanted_ to."

"I know," she murmurs, stroking the area above his mouth with her thumb, seemingly unfazed by the admission of his current feelings that he should have withheld. They have crossed several lines of intimacy in the past two minutes; this entire conversation has been a whirlwind. His head is spinning. "That is why I became convinced that I had to sneak away in the early morning. I thought it was the right thing to do, and you never would have allowed me to do it." Ziva tilts her head as her lip quivers anew. "It wasn't, though, was it? It was not right. It was very, very wrong. How could I have- oh, Tony."

And, as if stuck abruptly with the full implications of what she did, she begins to sob, shoulders shuddering, hair falling into her face. When he touches her elbow, she collapses into his chest, and he envelopes her fully in an embrace. He watches one of his own tears fall onto her neck.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, gripping the back of his t-shirt.

"I forgive you."

"I do not see how that's possible."

Tony inhales the scent of her hair, notes the ease with which her form molds into his arms, and wonders, _How could I not?_

"It was inevitable," he breathes. "Some things are, Ziva. And that's one of 'em."

**So, like, is CBS withholding our Shiva sneak peeks? I decided to go ahead and post since we don't seem to be getting them tonight. Good luck with the episode!**


	26. Chapter 26

The first time Tony sees Ziva after Halloween night, things seem different- or, rather, _she_ does. It's about noon and he is standing outside the food truck, waiting for his burrito, when he sees her walking toward him. He lifts his hand in a wave, but she doesn't wave back. She purses her lips. "Hey," he says anyway.

"Hi," she replies, but then breezes right by him. He turns around, stares at her retreating figure as she walks purposefully down the sidewalk. The only problem is, he can't think of any reason she'd need to go in that direction.

And that's when he knows that she is avoiding him.

For the next couple of days, he doesn't hear from her, and even though he thinks a million times of calling her himself, he can't work up the nerve. It would be easy- he'd have the perfect excuse. _Yeah, Angelina was wanting to do something, the three of us._ However, every time he starts to dial her number, he is unable to finish it. He wants answers, but he's too afraid to get them.

Then Angelina actually does ask about her, and he forces himself to complete a call. Ziva answers on the third ring. In the conversation that follows, she sounds distant and uses a minimal amount of words, but agrees to meet them at the park.

He hates himself for wondering if she'll show up.

Fortunately, she does. She beats them there, actually; she is already sitting on a bench when he and Angelina arrive. Tony hangs back as Angelina runs to Ziva. They hug and talk, the mother lightly brushing stray hairs away from her daughter's face, and he feels immensely relieved. She is withdrawing from him, but not from Angelina, and that's huge. That's the most important thing.

"Can I go swing, Daddy?" Angelina asks. Ziva looks up at him, too.

"Go ahead. You remember how to pump your legs?"

"Yeah!"

She dashes to the playground equipment and hops on one of the lower swings. Tony watches her for a second, but she appears to know what she's doing, so he sits down beside Ziva, hands buried deep in the pockets of his windbreaker. For a couple minutes, silence envelopes them; a dog barking in the distance is the only noise they hear until he finally asks, "How you doin'?"

"I am fine. You?"

"Got a bruise on my arm. Suspect threw a punch at me in interrogation yesterday," Tony says. He has absolutely no idea why he's sharing this, so he turns the conversation back to her. "You've been avoiding me."

Ziva glares at him. "I have not!"

"Yeah, you have."

She straightens the beret she's wearing, then crosses her arms over her chest and stares in the opposite direction. "Am I not here right now?"

"You are… but you're not looking at me."

With a loud sigh, she repositions herself so that she is sitting sideways on the bench, one knee resting against the back of it, and facing him. A gust of wind blows her hair across her face; she swipes at it impatiently. "There."

"Better." The corners of Tony's mouth quirk upwards, and he cocks his head, levels his gaze at her expectantly.

Ziva lets out a short, soft exhale. "What?"

"Tell me what's the matter."

"Tony-"

"Hey," he interrupts sternly, because he recognizes that tone- it's the one she uses to deflect. Some things never change. "We can't… we _have_ to bring this stuff out in the open and deal with it. It's not just the two of us involved here." To emphasize the point, he jerks his head toward the swings. "So we've got to be on the same page. You know?"

She studies Angelina, then him. The change in her resolve is visible in her expression. "Sorry," she says softly. "You are right."

Tony nods and waits.

"I am bothered."

"Clearly."

"I am _bothered_," she repeats, not amused by his sarcasm, "because I… it was not until the other day, on Halloween, that I realized my leaving was _not_ the best thing for you and Angelina. I took the most drastic measure possible to amend something that could have been fixed another way. And now… now I do not see how you could _possibly_ forgive me."

The chilly air is seeping into Tony's bones, causing him to shiver. He lifts his shoulders up to his ears. "I didn't used to think I'd be able to. Even when you first came back. But I've gotten there."

"How?"

"Couldn't tell you," he reluctantly admits. "From the very beginning, I wanted to… to _try_, for Angelina's sake. But the actual forgiveness wasn't really a conscious thing."

Ziva presses her fingers into her temples and takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I am so _angry_ at myself."

He watches as Angelina slides her shoes through the mulch beneath the swing. When she has steadied herself, she hops off and runs to the jungle gym, braids bouncing against her back. "You did it for a reason," he tells Ziva. "Maybe it was misguided, but… I know it wasn't selfish."

And he really does not doubt that she left out of love. It was stupid and impulsive and did not lead to her family's happiness the way she thought it would- quite the opposite, in fact. But that's not the point anymore.

The point is that she's here now.

The _point_, as he told Gibbs that day in the elevator, is that they have another chance.

Ziva lightly taps his hand. Tony looks over at her, at her head tilted to the side and her raw, open expression. The fading sunlight plays through her hair, and he finds himself thinking that she is beautiful.

"I'm sorry," she says with all the sincerity in the world.

"It's okay." He accepts the apology because he knows it's important to her, but then he keeps speaking, quickly, trying to get it all out in the open as soon as possible. It needs to be there. "We just really need to try and move forward. No more dwelling. No more apologizing. You're here now, and I am, and Ang is, so let's just… go. Live in the present. Forget the past."

Ziva furrows her brow. "It is not so easy, Tony."

"Yeah. I know. But we can try. We can work on it."

She nods slowly. He can practically see the wheels in her mind turning. "And when we… _work_ on it… where might that leave you and I?"

The question is vague yet loaded. Tony gives an answer of the same variety. "Wherever we want to end up."

A look passes between them, and it is silently understood that their desire to attempt a relationship is mutual. He squeezes her shoulder, looking elsewhere as he does so. She gives his fingers a little pat, and then both of their hands fall back into their respective laps.

0000000000

The next week, Tony and Angelina introduce Ziva to their favorite pizza place. It's a small, locally-owned joint, one he didn't discover until about a year after she left. He tried it once, loved it, and has brought Angelina back at least once a month ever since. Usually, they order a small pepperoni; this time, it's a medium. As Ziva slides two pieces onto her plate, he marvels at this tiny detail- the size of pizza they get- and how it has been affected by her absence.

He hopes that they buy a lot more medium pizzas in the future.

Talk is pretty low-key for a while. Work, school, nothing novel… and then Angelina asks around a mouthful of pizza, "Mommy, are you gonna go away again?"

"Angelina Gabrielle," Tony says sharply, and the little girl recoils, startled at his tone and the use of her full name. Beside him, Ziva places a hand on his arm.

"It is okay," she murmurs so only he can hear.

He glances at Angelina, whose eyes are wide. Her question was innocent; he gave a knee-jerk reaction. Good Lord. What's wrong with him?

"Sorry," he says lamely, but he can tell that Angelina is not going to be so quick to forgive. She juts out her lower lip and crosses her arms over her chest. What this means, he suspects, is that tonight he'll owe her an extra bedtime story and a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"To answer your question, Angelina," Ziva says with a forced smile, "I do not want to go away again. I am planning to live here, near you."

"Good," Angelina says. "I want you to stay here."

Tony nudges her leg with his toe, but she avoids his eyes and doesn't look back up until she announces that she has to use the restroom. Once she has disappeared through the swinging door, Ziva cocks an eyebrow at him. It feels freakily familiar, like the early days of their partnership when they would try to figure out each other's angles. "What was that?"

"I don't know. I wasn't… expecting that question, I guess."

"Why did it bother you? You have been very open with her about me."

"I don't know," he says again, sitting back heavily in his seat. It's the truth. "Never did get into the… the hard details."

Ziva hums in acknowledgement and taps her slender fingers against the tabletop. After a moment, she says, "I know you said we should forget the past, but I do not think that is going to work. Even Angelina knows… _something_ about what happened. She should be allowed to ask questions, Tony." Then, quickly: "I am not trying to tell you how to parent-"

"You're her parent, too," he interrupts. "Your opinion counts just as much as mine now."

She looks like she's about to dispute this, but doesn't. "Let's agree to allow her to inquire, yes? And to give her as honest answers as we can? And for all three of us… we should remember the past and learn from it."

Tony meets her eyes. Her gaze drills right into his. "Right."

"And we will also move forward, as you said."

"Move forward," he muses. "Sounds good."


	27. Chapter 27

Ziva regards the carton of apple juice with a furrowed brow. "Why are you handing that to me?"

"'Cause it's good."

"Isn't it Angelina's?"

Tony glances guiltily at the coffee table, where he has set two other cartons with the straws already in them, ready to drink. His daughter is in bed; they're both for him. "Well. Technically."

She bites her lip, but ends up giggling anyway. He rolls his eyes for show rather than out of actual irritability and plops down beside her. The TV is off, the apartment quiet. This is a very odd state for his home to be in. Especially during the past five years.

"So," he says. "You're here for a biography, huh?"

"Yes," Ziva says, and suddenly appears shy. "I mean, I just… I missed _everything, _Tony, and no amount of talking will be able to make up for that, but…"

She trails off, and he saves her. "I get it."

"Okay," she breathes out.

"Angelina Gabrielle DiNozzo," he begins, taking a sip of juice, "is a force to be reckoned with. She's always been a little bit ahead of the rest. Walked at eleven months. Preschool teacher knew she was brilliant on her first day there. Hell, she's semi-bilingual."

"Eleven months," Ziva muses quietly.

"Yeah. I wasn't even trying to make her; she just… she stood up, which she'd been doing for a while by then, and looked at me, and I knew she was about to walk. Managed to get it on camera."

"Do you still have the video?"

Tony looks at her, surprised. "Wouldn't delete it." He grabs his phone and begins sifting through screens. The video is buried under years' worth of others; eventually, he locates it and moves closer to Ziva. "Okay. Here we go."

He hits play, and there is Angelina, standing next to the couch and watching him expectantly. His voice, distant, says, "You gonna walk now?"

She grins.

"Come on. Show Daddy how you can walk." The camera jiggles, as if he is miming the action. "Go ahead, Ang."

Holding her arms to the sides for balance, she takes one hesitant step, then two, and then she falls on her hands and knees.

"Oopsie," Tony coos in the background; currently, he closes his eyes, embarrassed. His baby talk used to be frequent fodder for comedy among the team.

Angelina hops right back up. Three more steps, and this time she falls onto her bottom. "Da da," she calls, stretching her arms toward him.

"Good job!" he exclaims as the image becomes blurred. "I'm so proud-"

The video ends abruptly. Tony glances over at Ziva and finds her hand pressed against her chest. Her eyes are wide. "You okay?" he asks cautiously.

She swallows loudly and chokes out, "Yes." For a second, he fears she's going to cry- what would he _do_ about that?- but then she assumes a controlled expression. "Do you have any more videos of her?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got tons. Here, this is my favorite," he says, pulling up another one. The thumbnail for it is Angelina with both cheeks puffed out. "Look at that goofball."

And by the time it's over, both of them are laughing as they lean lightly against each other.

0000000000

Tony shares their daughter with Ziva in every way he can- through the videos, through stories to accompany them. He tells her about his high and low points on the roller coaster called parenting while she listens attentively, occasionally asking questions. He tells her about the firsts, the transitions, and the surprises, such as how she latched on to McGee ("_McGee_!" Tony repeats incredulously) at a young age. He even relays the events that prompted him to tell Angelina about Ziva. She stares at her hands while he's talking about it, and when he pauses, she says, "I know I was harsh with you concerning that, but… now, I am glad you did it."

"I think it's made this…" Unsure how to describe the situation, he motions between the two of them. "This _thing_ a lot easier on all of us."

Ziva nods, falling silent, and he continues to talk about their daughter.

Somehow, they end up on the topic of her stint in the hospital. All the details are out before Tony feels his throat close up and his eyes grow moist. He stops mid-sentence and stares at the floor as he tries to get a grip. After a full minute, Ziva lightly touches his hand. "I am sure it was scary to see her faint."

"Yeah," he says, and that's true, but the memory wouldn't be enough to upset him on its own. It's just the tipping point. He's spent two hours telling Ziva things she already should have known. Too much emotion squeezed into too little time.

"Has she… had any other health problems?" Ziva asks hesitantly.

"No. When she gets sick, she's _really_ sick. Usually ends up on antibiotics. But she's never gone back to the hospital."

Another pause. Then: "What's the matter, Tony?"

He bows his head so she cannot see his face and, against his will, is transported back to those moments of terror when he lost his head and thought something was legitimately _wrong _with Angelina. When he feared he might lose the only thing he had left in the world.

Ziva's fingers curl around his, and he finds himself clinging to them as he props his forehead against his other hand. _You were gone and she passed out and I was so afraid I'd be alone._

But he isn't going to say that to her. Of course he isn't. A tear creeps down his cheek, and he wipes it away. "I'm fine," he says, and does take some comfort from her touch. _She's here. Angelina's here. They're both here._ He chants this to himself, over and over and over, while Ziva narrows her eyes at him, unconvinced.

"Tony, I am so sorry for the pain I've caused you."

"Don't-"

"No. This needs to be said. It is not… it is not _fair_ that you nearly got fired trying to balance work and family. You should not have had to deal with that alone. _I_ should have been there to help and support you."

Their gazes lock on each other. Tony detests the pain in hers, wants to make it go away. "You're right. You should have been there," he begins. Before she can take his words the wrong way, he adds, "But you weren't. And it's not your fault. You made the choice to leave, I guess, but… you were a victim of your own demons. You know?"

"Tony-"

"You asked me how I could forgive you, Ziva, and I told you… _that's_ why. It's because, no matter how hurt I was, the fact stands that you took measures to take those demons away from me and Angelina out of pure selflessness. I know you loved us, okay? I don't doubt it. I never really doubted it in the first place. And I know that it was just as hard for you as it was for me. Maybe more so, because I had Ang all that time, and you had…"

He cuts himself off, but she senses where he'd been going. Her bottom lip quivers. "Nothing," she whispers. "I had nothing."

0000000000

She cries for a bit. He extends one arm, but she waves him off. Despite the shaking of her shoulders, she makes almost no noise. With his feet bouncing against the floor, Tony stares at the dark TV. It's all he knows to do.

Eventually, she blows her nose and tosses the Kleenex in the trash. "I'm sorry."

"You're fine," he says.

She slouches against the back of the couch, looking completely defeated. The clock reads ten thirty-eight. They've been sitting here for nearly two hours.

"I worked seventy hours a week in New York."

Tony furrows his brow, confused. "What?"

"It was more than the other assistant chefs. I wanted to be at the restaurant all the time because it was always busy; while I was there, I was preoccupied. When I was home, all I did was _think_."

He pictures her throwing together dishes in a cramped, hot kitchen, yelling to her coworkers in Spanish, a life she chose for its ability to drown out her pain.

Then he sees her walking into an empty, desolate, silent apartment.

In some ways, he can relate. And in others, he can't even imagine.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

Ziva shakes her head. "I do not deserve-"

"We've been through hell. I have, and so have you."

She twists her fingers together. "Yes. I suppose that is true."

"Hey." Tony nudges her, then waits for her to look at him. "Moving forward. Remember?"

Ziva holds his gaze with her red, baggy, exhausted eyes. "I remember."

What he desperately wants to do is hold her, stroke her hair, reassure her that it _really is okay_. Lots of things are different now, but she is still his Ziva, and she is broken. He wants to put her back together.

But he doesn't know if he's allowed to right now.

"Can I ask you a question?" she murmurs.

"'Course."

She turns completely toward him, pulling her legs onto the couch and crisscrossing them. "On Angelina's first birthday," she begins, and then presses on, ignoring the way he tenses up, "I went to a jewelry store and bought a necklace with a peridot pendant. Her birthstone. It was impulsive; once I had time to think about it, I realized I wouldn't be able to wear it, because it would be a constant reminder of what I left behind. So it has never been used; I just let myself look at it from time to time."

More images in Tony's brain that he'd rather not have there. _Ziva. _She's strong, always has been, but she had so much trouble coping with the loss of Angelina in her life. "What's the question?" he asks hoarsely.

"I… I have been thinking, and I thought I would… give the necklace to her for Christmas. If that's okay with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Tony asks.

"It was purchased in such-"

"You don't need my permission to give our kid a present."

Ziva nods.

But he's not satisfied. He leans forward, completely invading her personal space. "I mean it. You're her mom; we're equals here. As far as Angelina's concerned, we're partners."

"Okay," she says. One beat passes. Two. "Tony."

"Yeah."

She nudges him. "I've missed being your partner."


	28. Chapter 28

During the month of December, Angelina spends a couple nights at Ziva's apartment so Tony can do his Christmas shopping. These sleepovers go a lot better than the first one; he receives no calls, no concerns. The second time he goes to pick her up, she greets him at the door, waving a Ziploc bag of Hershey's kisses above her head.

"What've you got there?" he asks, already envisioning the hyperactivity that the candy will induce.

"I won it!"

"Won it?"

"Uh-huh. Mommy showed me how to play _s_- _sev_-"

"_Sevivon_," Ziva says from behind her. "Or it's also called dreidel, Angelina."

He remembers his own dreidel lesson, so long ago. Does Ziva? "That sounds fun," he tells Angelina.

"Uh-huh. We played it 'cause it's, uh… what's it called, Mommy?"

"Chanukah."

"Chanukah! It's Chanukah! You know what happened on Chanukah, Daddy?"

Tony leans against the wall, arms over his chest. "No," he lies, playing along. "What happened?"

"The candles kept burning!"

Ziva laughs at the summary and taps Angelina lightly on the head. "Good job."

She beams at her mother, opens her mouth to say something else, but Tony cuts her off. If he lets her keep talking, they'll be here forever. "Got your stuff, Ang?"

"Oh," Ziva says, ducking around the corner and emerging a second later with a pink tote bag. "Here."

Angelina takes the bag, hands it to Tony (he is her personal pack mule, apparently) and then hugs Ziva. He watches the embrace, a smile worming its way onto his lips.

As they're leaving, he calls over his shoulder, "See you on Christmas?"

Ziva answers in the affirmative. "I will be there."

0000000000

On Christmas morning, the doorbell rings just as Angelina is dragging Tony out of bed at the ridiculous hour of seven a.m. He lets Ziva in, then grants Angelina permission to start tearing into her presents. The adults watch, bleary-eyed, as the little girl and her endless reservoir of energy flit around the room. Even though they're too tired to converse much, this is already a million times better than their first Christmas as a family.

Angelina has never been one to stall, so it doesn't take long for the living room floor to be covered in shredded wrapping paper and brand new toys. Then Tony gives her the only present that is marked as from 'Daddy' instead of 'Santa' (the complete _Little House on the Prairie_ book set- _there's_ one thing he never envisioned himself buying). She won't be able to read them on her own for a couple of years, but that's okay; she's excited, so he's happy.

After she has dumped all the books out of the box, studied the illustrated covers, and put them away, Ziva hands her a small package with a purple bow on it. Angelina regards it curiously, then takes off the lid. She peers inside, expressionless, before realization crosses her face. "Ooh! Is it a necklace?"

"Yes," Ziva says, sounding immensely relieved.

"It's pretty!" Angelina lifts it out of the box. "And sparkly!"

"Let me show you something," Ziva says, reaching out to clasp the pendant in her hand. "This green part is called a peridot. It shows that you were born in August."

"Can I put it on?"

Ziva glances at Tony. He gives her a look, because she was supposed to stop deferring to him. "Of course. Turn around." Angelina does as she is told. Tony watches Ziva clasp the necklace. "There. Do you like it?"

"Uh-huh. It's pretty."

"Tell your mom thank you," Tony reminds her.

"Thank you, Mommy." Angelina points at her mother's Star of David. "Now we've both gots necklaces!"

He doesn't mean to, but he catches Ziva's eye, so he winks at her. She laughs, cheeks flushed with what he can only describe as joy.

They spend the rest of their morning assembling toys and eating biscuits and playing with Angelina. Perhaps it should be boring, but it's not; just lazy. Relaxing. _Comfortable._ At one point, he glances over at Ziva from his spot on the floor and finds her sprawled across the couch, eyes closed. It's such a familiar sight- well, as familiar as something that last occurred years ago can be… although, at this particular moment, it sort of feels like Ziva never left.

In the early afternoon, Ziva takes her car and he takes his and they go to Ducky's for the team's Christmas dinner. He feels better about this gathering than he did about Angelina's birthday party; last week, Abby sought him out to ask if Ziva was coming and actually seemed pleased that she was. Today, she's the one who opens the door, and she gives all three of them hugs. Ziva is taken aback when it's her turn, but only for a second. Then she squeezes the scientist around the waist and says, "Merry Christmas, Abby."

While Tony is helping Angelina out of her coat, Ducky wanders into the foyer, leaning heavily on his cane. "You're here! Just in time, too. We are waiting for our turkey to be done, and then we will be ready to dig in. Jethro and the others are in the living room."

"Is Jacob?" Angelina wants to know.

"Naturally," Ducky replies, smiling at her. She hurries away. Once she is gone, he looks at Ziva. "Ziva, dear, would you like to help me?"

She heartily agrees, and the two of them disappear into the kitchen. Tony jokes, "Guess _my_ culinary assistance isn't needed."

Abby doesn't reply. When he turns toward her, he is surprised to find that her eyes have welled up and both of her hands are clasped beneath her chin.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I'm just so glad Ziva's back," she whispers tearfully. "She belongs here with us."

0000000000

"It's _freezing_."

Ziva laughs. "You should have worn your jacket."

"Didn't think I'd need it to walk you to your car." Tony hunches his shoulders against a frigid gust of wind as they come to stand beside the sedan Ziva drives these days. She opens her mouth, but he interrupts. "Did you have a good time?"

"I did. You?"

"Yeah." He hops up and down a couple times, trying to warm his muscles. In the dark, he can barely make out her face. "This is going well. You know. You and the team."

"Yes, it is. This gathering felt a lot more, ah… normal. Like the ones we used to have." Ziva tilts her head to the side. "You know?"

"Yeah." He does.

"And it is such a _relief_, because there was a time when I thought my relationships with them were permanently ruined. I am… grateful, as well, that Angelina has had such a good family to rely on for… well. You know."

The light of a streetlamp catches her face at just the right angle so that he can see her sparkling pupils, the happy little grin gracing her lips. It only lasts a second before she shifts onto her other foot, but that second is all he needs. He has seen her expression. Now that he has, he can't stop himself from saying, "I'm grateful she has _you_," and kissing her.

Ziva gasps against his mouth, but he refuses to pull away. After a second, her lips meld with his and one hand curls around his neck. Tony holds her waist, shuts his eyes, tries his damnedest to memorize this moment, because who knows when- _if_- he'll get to feel her kiss again?

It is she who draws back an indeterminable amount of time later. Despite the fact that their kiss was very tame, she is breathing heavily. Tony stares down at her, drops his hands to his sides, tries to slow his pounding heart.

"What…" he begins, but then trails off.

Ziva chews on her lower lip so hard he worries she might draw blood. Then she says, "I will see you later," and gets in her car. He stays on the sidewalk, fire still in his veins, and lets her drive away.

**Don't worry, guys. It's all good.**


	29. Chapter 29

"Why d'you keep lookin' at your phone?" Angelina asks blearily.

Tony puts the phone back on her nightstand- still no messages- and readjusts himself on the edge of the tiny bed. "Just checking on something."

Leaning into his already numb arm, she grunts, seeming to lose interest. He hums quietly to her, but his mind is elsewhere. Is Ziva expecting a text from _him_? Maybe he should grow a pair and initiate the conversation. Then again, what would he say? _Sorry for my impulsiveness, but I thought we'd kinda agreed that we wanted to give this another shot and so I'm not sure why you ran off._

Yeah. No.

He'll just wait.

Angelina soon falls asleep. He slips out from beneath her and tucks the blanket securely around her body, then pockets his cell and leaves. Again and again, he licks his lips, trying to get rid of Ziva's imprint on them, but it never works.

He's in love with her, and he knows by now that he won't be able to make that feeling go away.

There's one more thing he knows: another rejection will break him.

0000000000

It's almost eleven when someone knocks on the front door. Tony approaches it with caution, but, through the peephole, he sees Ziva. And, upon further examination, he finds that she has a pizza box in one hand and a drink carrier containing two coffees in the other.

_Toda._

_Prego._

Tony opens the door. "You remembered."

She smiles. "How could I forget?"

He stands back to let her in. The scent of the food hits his nose, making the memory of standing with her outside that hotel all the more vivid. How long ago has that been? Fifteen years? Something like that, but he can't be bothered with actual math right now.

Ziva walks to his kitchen table and sets everything down. She grabs two plates, puts a slice of pizza on each, and sits. Tony does the same.

"So," he says, tugging a plate toward him. "This is unexpected."

"Much like you kissing me."

"Touché." He picks off a pepperoni and sticks it in his mouth. "But, you know, I thought we were… working towards that."

Ziva raises an eyebrow. "We were. We _are_."

Despite feeling immensely relieved, he has to ask. "Why the hell did you run off, then?"

"You startled me, Tony. That's all."

He studies her face, and she looks sincere. Running, he knows, is a reflex for her. That's what she does when she isn't sure how to handle a situation. That's what landed her in New York City for five years.

The difference, now, is that after she took off, she turned back around.

And here she is.

Hesitantly, he leans forward. "So… you wouldn't mind too much if I kissed you again?"

"No." She picks up her coffee and takes a long gulp, swallows so loudly Tony can hear it. "But we have to talk first. We have to… to figure out what we're doing."

"You mean, like, for tomorrow? Or ten years down the road?"

"I am not saying we need to have a strict plan. But before we get into this- before we pull _Angelina_ into this- we must be clear on the direction we are going in."

Tony nods, wondering if he should be honest about what he wants, if it'll scare her off.

But then, mirroring his anxiety with her eyes, she asks, "This is for the long-term, yes?"

"I want it to be, yeah." _I wanna marry you, just like I always did._

Ziva toys with her pizza, tears off pieces of crust, but doesn't eat any. "Angelina."

"What about her?"

"How will she be affected if this does not work?"

He thinks of her lying in her bed, stuffed animal clutched to her chest. So innocent. So fragile. Her well-being must come first. Can he protect her from the potential fallout if this deal goes to shit? "We need to agree that if you and I don't work out, things will go back to the way they are now."

And, honestly, he sort of expects the commitment to freak Ziva out, and his stomach fills with dread because _crap, now she's gonna change her mind_. But then she raises her chin and nods firmly. "Agreed."

0000000000

They decide to proceed with caution and in secret. Even Angelina, for the time being, will not know that anything has changed between her parents. The end goal is heavily implied, mutually understood, but not explicitly stated, and it is for there not to _be_ an end.

Tony is thrilled.

And he's also terrified.

And he worries.

A lot.

Ziva shares many of his concerns. They eat and drink and discuss them, and it becomes apparent that the only way to do this is one day at a time. Nothing is guaranteed. Maybe they'll create the family they should have been in the first place, or maybe they won't. No matter what happens, they are dedicated to Angelina. She will never want for a parent again.

It's a strange experience, to sit here and discuss their pending relationship so thoroughly. Even when they started dating the first time and each of them had so much baggage, there hadn't been nearly as much talking. There was more kissing. More spontaneity. But, he figures, maybe that's just it. That phase has come and gone for them. Now, he's had to be a parent and she's had to grieve and they are so much more mature. It only makes sense that their second start would be different from the first one.

Still, he doesn't like the fact that the way they're talking, they might as well be discussing the terms of a business contract. So when Ziva glances at the clock, gasps, "It's one in the morning!" and scurries out of her chair, he walks over to her and takes her hand, pulsing her fingers in his.

"I missed you so much," he murmurs. "Have I told you that?"

"Yes," she says, and he could swear that her cheeks turn a bit red. Maybe they aren't as far past that honeymoon phase as he thought. "And I missed you too."

"I know," Tony says. With his free hand, he touches the side of her face. Ziva leans into his palm, and then she stands on her toes to kiss him. This time, it's a bit more heated, a little longer, but not too long, because Angelina is in the next room and they're both aware of it.

She draws back too soon, pats his chest. "I will see you at work."

He can't wait.

0000000000

"I have a question."

"What did I say about talking with your mouth full?"

Angelina chews her piece of waffle, swallows, then lifts her fork to spear another one. Tony grabs her hand. "Don't eat any more. Ask your question first."

"Are mommies and daddies supposed to kiss and stuff?"

For a second, he thinks she was watching him and Ziva the other night; then he remembers that as soon as Ziva left, he'd gone to check on her and she was fast asleep. "Sometimes they do," he says nonchalantly. "Sometimes they don't. Why?"

"'Cause on TV they do, but you and mommy don't." She takes another bite and doesn't continue until it is gone. "Is it icky? It looks icky."

Tony rolls his lips. It's been a grand total of three days since he and Ziva decided to give it another shot; it's going to be a while before they're comfortable with cluing Angelina in.

As he's thinking about his response, she adds, "'Cause there's spit on your mouth so if you touched someone else's mouth you'd get _their_ spit and that's gross."

"It is," he says. "Very germy."

"Uh-huh."

Angelina keeps eating. He debates whether he should take advantage of her silence or just leave this topic alone. As he decides to plug his big mouth with a piece of toast, she asks, "Daddy?"

"Yeah."

She dabs at the corner of her mouth and studies him for a second. Then: "Never mind."

He is tempted to ask what she'd started to say, but doesn't. It's probably nothing he wants to answer.

**There are six more chapters. I finished writing the last one today. : ) So excited for you guys to read the rest!**


	30. Chapter 30

Their "dates" consist of the same things they've been doing: taking their lunch breaks together and hanging out at his apartment while Angelina's sleeping. Between jobs and parenting duties, that's all they have time for. A kiss to say hello and another to say goodbye is pretty much the extent of their physical contact, since they are never truly alone. He wishes this wasn't the case, but the fact that all they do is talk doesn't bother him as much as he would guess. Maybe that comes with being mature, too: emotional intimacy carries more weight.

Angelina comes up a lot, of course, and so does work, but they also get deeper into the years they were apart than ever before. He starts to feel like he _knows_ her again, the Ziva who left as well as the one who came back. She tells about him Rodrigo, a dishwasher at the restaurant and the only person in New York she considered a friend. Rodrigo seemed to sense that she was hiding something, but never pressed for details- just left her with the impression that if she ever _wanted_ to share, he was there. And although she never did, she appreciated that.

One night about three weeks into their second round of dating, he gets the courage to bring up what he's been wondering for a while. He's leaning against the couch's left armrest and she the right one. Their feet touch in the middle. Her skin is warm against his, and that, in the end, is probably what gives him the strength to look her in the face. "Hey."

Ziva regards him curiously. "Hmm?"

"Have you, uh… _been_ with anyone else?"

She stares, and he holds his breath. What if she has? The thought makes his blood boil. If she has, will he be able to get over it?

Finally, she says, "Almost. But… no."

Tony releases the air he's been keeping prisoner in his lungs, but her wording begs the question, "What do you mean, 'almost'?"

"There was once… early; I had only been there for a few months… I went to a bar. Drank a beer. Met a man. And he invited to come home with him, and… I was so lonely, Tony. I _wanted_ to go, but I couldn't."

"Why not?" he asks quietly.

Ziva meets his eyes with her own smoldering ones. "Because he wasn't you."

He swings his feet onto the floor and scoots over to sit beside her knees. Resting one hand on each of them, he murmurs, "You understand why I couldn't do it, then."

She nods. "Yes. And if I were to be honest… I didn't really think you would."

Tony reaches out and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Ziva moves her legs from between their torsos so she can lean into his chest. He closes his eyes, absorbs her warmth. Drops a kiss into her hair.

"I love you," he whispers. "I never stopped."

She squeezes his waist. "Me either."

0000000000

Tony hops up and down, blowing into his gloved hands. Frigid air burns his cheeks and skin, even through multiple layers of clothing.

_Why_ is he at the zoo in January?

"Will the panda bear come here if I yell at him?" Angelina asks.

Oh, yeah. Because his daughter batted her eyes a couple times.

"Let's not yell," Ziva says, pulling Angelina's hat down over her ears. "He is eating his bamboo."

"Hmm."

The three of them watch for another couple minutes before moving on. Tony nudges Ziva. "Good job."

"With what?"

"Saving the panda," he says, grinning. She chuckles and leans into him very slightly.

Angelina points excitedly. "Monkeys!"

As she hurries (or tries to- she is bundled up tight) to the cages, Ziva bites her lip and looks at Tony. Something in her expression has changed. "What?" he asks.

She turns toward him. The wind whips through her ponytail, and he catches it in his hand to keep it still. He checks to make sure Angelina is still immersed in the monkeys, then raises his eyebrows at Ziva. "What's the matter?"

"It is stupid."

"Let me be the judge of that."

She laughs humorlessly. "Once in a while, I just… I just remember how far I still have to go before she trusts and wants me the way she does you. And I know, I know, it will take time, but… but I'm looking at her, Tony, at this little girl I would die for, and realizing that I am not a part of her daily life. I am an event. I am a _playdate_. She likes me, yes, but you are there when she wakes up and when she goes to bed and I am there two nights a week." These last words come out strangled, and Ziva puts a fist to her mouth as tears creep down her face. He reaches out, cradles her head against his chest. And he thinks about what she said, about how much unfortunate truth there is in it.

"First of all," he whispers eventually, "she _loves _you. She's said so. You have to believe that."

She speaks, but her voice is lost in the depths of his jacket.

It's so, so cold. Tony holds her tighter for the warmth- and the comfort- of them both. "Second, it's a big transition, bringing you back into her life. We've gone really slow, and I think we're doing good. The goal _is_ for you to move in, right?"

"Yes."

"Right. But we've only been back together for a month-"

"I did not mean to suggest-"

"I know you didn't." Tony smoothes her hair back and tugs on it lightly to get her to lift her head. She sighs, leans into the palm he places on her cheek. "Listen. I have an idea. Maybe we could start taking turns picking her up from school. That's a good way to ease you in, isn't it?"

Suggesting this out loud is strange, but, at the same time, it seems natural. Obvious. Why _wouldn't_ Ziva meet Angelina at the end of the day and accompany her home?

Her entire being lights up. "Really?"

"Yeah. Gibbs will love it," Tony adds, smirking. "I get headslapped every day I leave early."

Together, they laugh, and he knows this is right. All of this. It's right.

"Mommy?"

They look down and find Angelina staring, concerned, up at her mother. "Why were you crying?"

She wipes her eyes hurriedly and puts on the brave face that only Tony can see through. "I am fine, sweetheart. Did you like the monkeys?"

"Uh-huh." Angelina lifts her arms, and Ziva takes the cue to pick her up. "The, uh, the little one? Do you see him, Mommy?"

"Yes. He is cute."

"I named him Chester," she announces proudly, and looks confused when both Tony and Ziva chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, stepping forward and exaggeratedly wrapping his arms around them. "Brrr. Ooh, you guys are warm."

"Daddy, you're squishing me."

"Sorry." He backs off. Ziva swings Angelina onto her other hip, and he watches, noting the ease with which she handles their daughter and how different she is from the woman who first returned to them.

Yeah. They have no reason to worry.

0000000000

Angelina peters out much earlier than expected- not that he's complaining; three hours of wandering around in the cold is enough. She falls asleep in the backseat on the way home and doesn't even stir when Tony carries her inside. Ziva turns down the bed, then helps him take off her shoes and heavy coat.

"This is weird," he whispers as he drapes the blankets over her still, peaceful, _quiet_ form. "Do you know how many hours of my life I've devoted to wrangling her into bed? And apparently, all I needed to do was take her to the zoo."

Ziva chuckles. They leave and begin to remove their own winter wear as they head down the hallway. When they get to his bedroom, she unexpectedly ducks inside. He follows her. "What're you doing?"

Dropping her things on the bed, she walks to the nightstand and picks up the picture of herself in Paris. Tony's breath hitches as she studies it. What is she thinking about?

An eternity passes before she breaks the silence. "You kept it."

"Of course I kept it." He neglects to say that it spent some time in his clothes drawer. It was never his intention to erase her image from his mind; he just had to hide it for a while. "When Angelina was younger and wanted to know what you looked like, that's what I showed her."

Ziva nods. "I always liked it."

"It's still my favorite, you know."

She looks up at him in surprise, and his first thought is that she's _beautiful._

Tony crosses the room, discarding his own coat on the way, and comes to stand at her side. He carefully slides his fingers through her hair to caress the nape of her neck. "You remember Paris?"

"I remember waking up to you groping me."

His jaw drops. She smirks. "I wasn't _groping_ you!"

"Mhmm," she says, but with a wink. His free hand darts out to tickle her side, and she jumps away from him, squealing.

And this feeling… he knows this feeling. It's the feeling he first discovered in Paris, four months after Somalia. Like she's really, truly _back_.

Like he'll never have to miss her again.

Tony grabs her waist, pulls her into him, and kisses her with all of his amazement, all of his joy. She returns his vigor, and they somehow end up falling sideways onto the bed, right into the stack of wool and fleece and polyester. The chill in his bones is quickly run out by the warmth of her body. He squeezes her tight, and when they finally have to pull away for oxygen, he rolls onto his back.

Ziva hovers above him, a little smile playing on her lips. He tries to say something, but can't think of anything to properly punctuate this moment… so he kisses her again.

It grows heated. Hands wander. There is skin-to-skin contact. What was once warmth becomes direct heat. His heart pounds and pounds and pounds and his palms start to sweat because it has been _six years _since he did this with her, did this at _all,_ and the whole thing is still new, and he's scared.

And so, when she stops abruptly, there is a part of him that is disappointed… and a bigger part that is relieved.

"Not yet," she murmurs, climbing off of him and tugging her shirt down over her exposed abdomen.

"Yeah," he grudgingly admits. He sits up, and she steps forward so she is standing between his knees. Tony holds her tenderly, hands skimming the backs of her thighs. "When?"

"Soon," she promises, and seals it with a kiss. "For now, how about some hot chocolate and a movie?"

He beams. "Awesome."

And it is.

**Five more to go! Enjoy Canary on Tuesday, everyone!**


	31. Chapter 31

After that day at the zoo and continuing into February, Angelina seems to contract some sort of bug. She's extremely tired and eats only a few bites of whatever Tony puts in front of her. These symptoms are not dissimilar to the ones she usually exhibits when she's sick, but the absence of vomit and nasal congestion puzzles him. He decides she just needs rest, so he starts putting her to bed earlier; when that succeeds only in making her cranky, he spends most of two days lying beside her in his bed, case file propped on his stomach because she doesn't want him to leave. On the third day she's home, she still isn't feeling well and now whines, "There's hurts in my head." Gibbs will kill him if he doesn't go to work, so Ziva takes off instead.

Angelina cries when he kisses her and says that he'll see her later. She clutches the sleeve of his suit jacket until he pries her fingers off. "Mommy's here," he says, nodding over at Ziva. "She's gonna take care of you today."

"You too," she wails.

"No, baby, I gotta go." Tony heads for the door before she can grab him again. He gives Ziva an apologetic glance. "Go to sleep, Angelina."

Ziva gingerly climbs onto his bed, then begins to stroke the little girl's hair and sing softly in Hebrew. Her voice stops him in his tracks. Even though he's going to be late, he stands in the doorway and watches, completely mesmerized, as Angelina cuddles up to her mother. The sobs subside into hiccups, and Ziva looks at him with a smile. He finds himself grinning back. Then he forces himself to turn around and leave, and there is no doubt in his mind that she's got this under control.

Tony leaves the office as soon as he can and enters the apartment around six-thirty. "'Ello," he calls, but there is no response. Frowning, he quickly heads down the hallway. He swings into the bedroom and immediately relaxes.

Angelina is curled into a ball, Ziva is on her back, and both are sleeping soundly.

The sight is so serene and peaceful and, at the risk of sounding like a Hallmark card, _lovely_. He gives himself a minute to absorb the fact that he's actually seeing this, then creeps to Ziva's side of the bed. "Hey," he mutters, shaking her shoulder. Her body tenses and her eyes shoot open. Tony raises his other hand. "Just me."

"Sorry." She sweeps her loose curls out of her face and sits up. "I am not used to being awakened by somebody."

He tries not to think too much about that last comment, choosing instead to kiss her cheek and ask, "You two been snoozing the day away?"

"More or less. She woke up a couple times and ate some toast."

"Good." Tony reaches over to feel Angelina's forehead. "Still not warm. Pretty peaked, though."

"She should see a doctor," Ziva says, getting to her feet. Angelina grunts and rolls over.

"Probably. I'll call in the morning." He nudges her lightly. "That was amazing, by the way. This morning. The way you just… started singing and calmed her right down."

"I was surprised," she admits. "Last time I tried singing to her… at my apartment, when she had the nightmare… it did not work. At all."

Tony turns his whole body toward her. "See how far we've come?"

Ziva appears to be fighting a smile. "Perhaps you were right about… us just needing some time."

"Of course I was right," he scoffs, and she shoves his shoulder playfully. At his exaggerated cry of pain, Angelina stirs, but does not wake. A whispered argument ensues as they head for the door; once they're outside of the bedroom, it fizzles out and they are kissing instead.

0000000000

Angelina feels better the next morning and wants to go to school, so Tony lets her. Today, it's his turn to pick her up; when he arrives at about five-thirty, the after school care supervisor pulls him aside to say that Angelina is taking a nap in the nurse's office.

"I'm concerned about that," she tells him, "because we're usually trying to keep her from bouncing off the ceiling."

"So am I," Tony sighs.

At home, she immediately flops down on the couch. Doesn't even turn on the TV first, just… lies there. He leans over her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sleepy, Daddy."

"You've been sleepy all week."

She mumbles something unintelligible and grasps for the afghan at her feet. Tony helps to drape it over her, then walks into the other room, wondering whether Vance will blow a gasket if he calls to request a third day off.

He takes a shower, eats some Ritz crackers, and gets online to see the results of his automated fantasy baseball draft. The next time he checks on her, he notices something different- and strange- about her breathing. It's shallow, almost forced, like her lungs are working overtime.

"That's it," he mutters, scooping her up, blanket and all. "You and me are gonna take a little trip."

0000000000

The ER doctor determines that her breathing is not indicative of any present dangers, but he does recommend that she see the pediatrician about it and her other symptoms. Tony manages to get her an appointment the next day. She's very irritated about being pulled from her bed before she's ready, but he ignores her complaints, and eventually she becomes too tired to issue them.

Now he is sitting in a corner of the pediatrician's office, not entirely awake himself, answering questions and wishing somebody would just give Angelina some antibiotics already.

"How long have you been noticing the fatigue?"

"Three weeks or so."

"Decreased appetite?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

Ziva has sent him a text to ask if he knows anything. He replies that he doesn't, then finds a game on his phone and begins to play.

"Dad?" the doctor says at long last, and Tony looks up. "I'm going to write you a referral. She needs some testing done."

"What kind of testing?" The question comes out panicked- this is a new one.

"Pretty sure we're looking at anemia here. In children, it's usually pretty straightforward iron-deficiency- not enough iron in the diet, too much cow's milk- and an iron supplement should do the trick."

Tony glances at Angelina, sitting on the examination table and looking about ready to fall over. "So what's the testing for?"

"Just to confirm my suspicion and make sure that the anemia is not the result of a more serious problem."

He narrows his eyes. "Like _what, _exactly?"

0000000000

"Do not jump to conclusions, Tony."

"I'm gonna jump to all the conclusions I want until I see proof that Ang is fine."

Ziva sighs and sits back in her kitchen chair. Between her hands, her coffee is growing cold. He can tell because steam has ceased to rise from the top. It's the same with his.

Neither of them feels able to stomach anything.

"This is only a precaution. The doctor told you that."

Tony stares out the pitch-black window. "But there's a _chance_. And that's enough to make me flip my shit."

"Clearly."

He swivels his head back around to look at her. "My daughter might have leukemia," he whispers harshly. "I have every right to worry."

Some combination of hurt and anger clouds Ziva's face, and he almost regrets his words. Almost, but not quite, because they are true. "You think _I_ am not worried?" she asks, leaning forward. "She is my daughter, too, Tony."

"I didn't mean-"

"I will feel better when we have the test results, yes, but until then, I am going to remain rational and remember that this is a _slight_ possibility."

Tony remembers when Angelina fainted years ago, her little body suddenly going slack, and he can still feel that panic, that intense fear. Even though Ziva is back and intending to stay, he knows that he might never get over his abandonment complex. "Look, it just… when she got the flu and had to go to the hospital, I sort of lost my head."

"You told me. And I understand why that was the case." Her voice has softened, much to his relief. He doesn't want to argue right now; he needs her too much. "But it is going to be three days before we get the results back, and we cannot spend them dwelling on what will probably not be."

He takes a gulp of his own coffee because he feels obligated to. It tastes like icy slush, and he has to force it down. "I can't get my mind off of it, Ziva."

She reaches out, takes one hand in his. A lump grows in Tony's throat as he watches their fingers twine together, grasping at something tangible, something to keep them grounded.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you, too."

"I love Angelina."

"So do I," she says in a tone that is understanding rather than challenging.

"I need this to be okay."

"It will be." Ziva stands and comes around the edge of the table. As she approaches him, he winds both arms around her waist. She combs through his hair and he closes his eyes, trying to absorb the sensation and all the comfort it gives. "No matter what we find out, we will handle it. You have always taken good care of her, and now I am here to help. We will be okay, Tony."

He feels himself slowly begin to relax and wonders how, exactly, he lasted so long without her and her soothing words, her warm embrace, her level head. This is why they have always worked so well: each of them is exactly what the other needs.

"I'm tired," he says, though the correct word is probably 'exhausted'. Mentally. Physically. And despite the caffeine in his system.

"It is late," Ziva says. "Almost midnight."

"Really?"

"Yes. We have been sitting here for a long time."

Tony stands, leaving no space between them. She takes a step back. "Can you stay?"

Ziva appears startled, but it soon seems to dawn on her that he means the question in a completely innocuous way, because she nods. "Of course."

"Thank you," he breathes out, so relieved that he isn't going to be facing a dark, sleepless night alone.

After checking on Angelina one last time, they migrate to his room. Settle into the pillows. Effortlessly become entangled. It's as if there was never a prolonged pause in their relationship.

The concern weighing heavily on both of their minds almost- _almost_- disappears.

**You guys should review, since there's only four chapters left ;)**


	32. Chapter 32

Tony feels like he's holding his breath for hours and hours at a time as he and Ziva wait for somebody to call about Angelina's tests. They continue to keep her at home, not that there is much of a choice; whenever she gets up, it's only an hour or two before she starts to yawn. He, on the other hand, can barely sleep at all. Having Ziva there- she has come over to stay for the time being- helps keep his sanity in check, and he is extremely grateful for her presence.

Rarely have both of them been home at the same time (except for late at night, one of them is always at work, since they have been missing so much lately) but on the day they're expecting the call, neither one of them goes anywhere. They make scrambled eggs and eat them in front of the TV and pointedly avoid talking about their fear. After he finishes his breakfast, he switches the channel from ZNN to a _Friends_ rerun, because what better distraction is there than an outdated nineties sitcom?

Ziva curls into his side, lays her head on his shoulder. He holds her against him and mentally replays her words from the other day, trying to believe them: _No matter what we find out, we will handle it._

How can she know that, though?

Angelina might be _sick_. Really, scarily, life-threateningly _sick_.

If they get bad news, he has no idea what he'll do.

The episode ends. Another one begins, and in the middle of the theme song, a little voice sounds from behind them.

"Hi," Angelina says, padding up to him in her nightgown and dragging a blanket behind her. Her braids are all but undone. Her face is pale the way it has been for weeks now. She starts climbing into his lap, and he relinquishes his grip on Ziva in order to help her up.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Tony says with faux cheer. He never thought he'd feel this way, but he would give anything to be chasing her around the apartment right now. "Sleep well?"

"Uh-huh."

Ziva leans forward and kisses Angelina's cheek. "How do you feel today?"

"Fine," she replies groggily.

They exchange a worried look over her head, which Tony then kisses the top of. This little girl has been his rock. He will never let anything happen to her.

Ziva surprises him by wrapping one arm around his waist and one around Angelina's and pulling them into a collective embrace. He gives her a kiss on the temple, then cranes his neck at an awkward angle in order to reach her ear. "Don't leave me," he begs.

"I won't," says his other rock.

0000000000

That afternoon, while Angelina is drifting off on the couch and Ziva is in the kitchen ordering a pizza, his cell phone rings. He gives himself no time for preparation; he just snatches it up and answers. "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Michael Lawson." Angelina's pediatrician. "How are you today, Mr. DiNizzo?"

"I've been waiting very impatiently today," he responds, not caring in the least if he sounds like a bastard. Ziva appears in the doorway, her own phone held to her ear, and watches him.

The doctor takes his irritability in stride. "I apologize for the delay. The lab just faxed over Angelina's tests. It's typical iron-deficiency anemia, as I suspected; there is no indication of leukemia or any other serious problem…"

He keeps talking about prescriptions and iron-heavy diets, but Tony's not listening, because he has dropped his phone and gone slack with relief. "Thank God," he mutters, and Ziva's shoulders relax, too. Beside him, Angelina continues to doze, oblivious to the shift that has occurred.

"Are you still there?" Lawson asks.

Tony picks the phone back up. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

"Yes," Ziva says at the same time, returning to her own conversation. "Yes. Pepperoni on one half…"

He manages to get the information he needs from the doctor without shedding a tear, but as soon as Lawson wishes him a good night, Tony loses it. He leans over Angelina, kisses both sides of her face, whispers how happy he is that she's going to be okay. Only now does he realize how scared shitless he truly was.

Ziva reenters the room and, without a word, hugs him hard. He swallows. "Sorry."

"For what?" she asks, gently rubbing the back of his neck.

"For… this." He wipes his eyes. "For being dumb."

"You are not being dumb," she murmurs. "Now, we have calls to make, hmm? I know the others have been very worried."

The thought of placing several more phone calls after waiting all day for one is not pleasing. Especially to Abby- it'll be a forty-minute conversation. "I'm thinking a mass text," he says. "That's good enough."

0000000000

Aside from a run out to pick up Angelina's iron supplement, they stay home the rest of the day, watching movies and eating pizza. Ziva is cheerful, understandably, but now that his initial elation has worn off, something is bothering him.

Things are good again. They'll get the anemia taken care of, Angelina will go back to school, he and Ziva will return to work, and they'll carry on as before. It's what he wanted. He's glad for it.

And yet he wonders.

He doesn't realize that he's being uncharacteristically quiet until Ziva pats his knee, jarring him from his thoughts, and asks, "Are you okay?"

Tony studies her face, open and concerned, then lets his gaze drift downward. Angelina's head is in her lap- she's asleep right now, but earlier she stayed awake for three whole hours- and Ziva is stroking her hair. He chews on his lower lip before looking up and taking a deep breath. "What would've happened if… if she did have leukemia?"

Ziva's eyebrows knit together. "Then we would have done everything we could to get her better."

_We. _She seems so confident in her answer, but he cannot squelch his doubts. Because what if it _hadn't_ been okay in the end? What if Angelina never got better?

"You would have stayed?" Tony asks.

"What?"

He doesn't want to say this out loud. The words are painful. But he has to know. "Would you have stayed," he nearly whispers, "if you had to watch her… fade away?"

Her jaw drops, and his clenches, because her expression is so shocked, so hurt, so angry. Guilt surges through him. Making her imagine the unthinkable happening to their daughter was wrong, but she ran out the last time health got in the way of happiness. If Angelina had been ill and he'd been left to deal with it alone… he doesn't want to think about that.

Ziva's anger prevails over her other emotions, and she leans forward, pointing a shaking finger in his face. "Yes," she hisses. "What kind of question is that? Have I not proven my commitment?"

"You have… I just-"

"Listen to me. I am _here_ now, and there is nowhere else I want to be. I will see her loose her last tooth. I will see her graduate. And yes, _yes_, if something goes wrong, I will help her through that, too. Do you not trust me?"

A lump grows in his throat as he realizes his mistake and how very, very out of line he was. "Of course I do."

"Then act like it." She bows her head then and moves a lock of hair off Angelina's cheek. Tony watches, heart pounding, trying to figure out where to go from here. Then she raises her eyes, and he sees that they are shining. "I might have an instinct to run away, Tony. That's what I've been taught. It's… it's what I've done in the past, as you know much too well. But I wouldn't do it now."

"I know," he says, and hesitantly takes one of her hands. He's relieved when she allows it. "I know that. I'm sorry."

Ziva doesn't reply.

"I mean it." Feeling as if he's grasping at straws, he shifts so he's facing her and lifts her knuckles to his lips. "Here's how much. Okay? Move in with us."

"_What_?" she asks again.

"You belong here. With us. And I know that… that it would be permanent. I know you won't leave, Ziva. I'm sorry I even… suggested that you would."

Her features soften, and he is simultaneously relieved and under the impression that he's about to be shot down. But he appears to be forgiven, at least. "You don't have to prove your trust. I overreacted."

She didn't, not really, but he ignores that for now. "I've been thinking about it for a while."

"Tony…" Ziva shakes her head slightly. "We have been moving very slow. And this would be very fast. Angelina is not even aware that we… share anything besides her."

Tony glances at his smart, perceptive daughter. It's true that they've never said a thing about their relationship to her, but… "I think she knows more than we think."

With a sigh, Ziva motions for him to come toward her, since Angelina is preventing her from moving. Tony obeys, and once he is close enough, she kisses his lips. "Forget about what just happened, okay? We cannot jump into this. We need to make sure it is best for us, and for Angelina, too. This would be a huge transition for her."

"Yeah, but…" He exhales, frustrated because she's right. He's being an idiot tonight. "Okay, look. Can we make a deal?"

"Sure," she says uncertainly.

"Let's tell Ang, ask her if it's okay, and… and just start working toward it. How's that?"

Tony watches her hopefully, and she smiles. "That sounds fine."

She tugs him forward to kiss him again. This time, they stay immersed in each other for several seconds, then a full minute.

"Icky," Angelina groans.

They jump apart. Angelina waves her hand half-heartedly and rolls onto her side, upset by nothing except the nastiness of her parents.

And this, he figures, is a good sign.

**Originally, this chapter was the last one in the main story and there was going to be an epilogue, but I decided to organize it differently so now there's three more normal chapters. In case anybody was wondering. :P**

**(ALSO! I totally almost forgot. I have published a missing scene from this story. I made it a oneshot; it's called The Chosen Path. It takes place very early, around chapter ten or so. Angelina is eighteen months old. Thought you guys would probably want to check it out!)**


	33. Chapter 33

Soon, Angelina is back to her energetic self and is going to school again, and everything has returned to normal. A little better, even. Tony's outlook on what lies ahead- and they still aren't sure exactly what that is- has improved. He feels hopeful in a new way, a way that blows all of his previous, hesitant hope out of the water.

He feels like they're _going_ somewhere.

And one night, Tony and Ziva do. It's somewhat spontaneous yet maybe expected in the backs of their minds- they did take Angelina to Gibbs' earlier- but, regardless of the extent of their planning, it _seems_ like the first time. The very first time. A wait is over, a confession has been made through a physical act. Just like years ago, he distinguishes this from having sex, because that's not what it is. This is making love.

But there is a certain sense of familiarity, too. They always were cuddly when it came to each other, and afterwards, he is pleased to find that fact remaining true. Ziva molds against his side, slings her arm over his torso, nestles her face into his chest, presses soft kisses to it. He marvels at the sight of her and allows himself a moment- only one- to grieve for their lost years. Then he pushes that aside, because it doesn't matter right now. What matters is that he's here and she's here and their limbs are entwined and their breathing is a bit heavy and her hair is so soft beneath his fingers.

What matters is the steady beat of her heart, the one he knows belongs to him.

What matters is his own heart, swelling and thumping and so very much alive in her capable hands.

0000000000

In April, they decide that it's time- pending Angelina's approval. The three of them go to a pizza place of her choosing and, while they wait for the food, Tony begins. "Hey, Ang. Me and Mommy have a question for you."

"Uh-huh?" she asks, not looking up from her coloring book.

He gently takes her purple crayon from her. "Can you listen for just a couple minutes?" he asks, cutting off her protest.

She pouts, but says, "Sure."

He exchanges a look with Ziva, who gives him a nod of encouragement. Angelina is watching him expectantly. "We were thinking that it might be nice if Mommy came to live with us."

A furrow appears in Angelina's brow. Tony inwardly grimaces until she says, "Is Mommy gonna take my bed?"

He tries not to snort. "No, no, no," Ziva says, horrified. "Of course not, sweetheart. You'll still have your bed and your room. Remember when you were sick and I came to stay?"

"Yeah."

"It will be like that."

Angelina smiles. "That was fun."

"It was fun," Tony says, relieved. "Yeah, so… you think you might like for Mommy to live with us, Ang?"

"Yeah. Can I color now?"

Upon further questioning then and later, Angelina really appears to be on board. As boxes enter their apartment and furniture starts changing position, though, she seems to acquire a bit of anxiety. She clings to him in a manner reminiscent of the terrible twos and is back to wanting to sleep in his bed. There are even a couple instances in which she refuses to go meet her mother, which worries him more than anything. Both times, he gives in to Angelina, tells Ziva something came up. And both times, he ends up on Google, trying to figure out how the hell he's supposed to handle this.

Because she seemed so willing at first, and now… now, she's acting like she doesn't want Ziva there at all. Should he accommodate this attitude shift? Ignore it? Run off to a Caribbean island so he wouldn't have to deal with anything?

That last option sounds like the best one to him.

Finally, after reading countless articles, he decides that gently but firmly confronting Angelina is the way to go. An hour before bedtime one night, she is in her pajamas and relatively calm. She lies on the floor of her room reading a book; he stretches out alongside her. "What're you doin'?"

"Reading," she says in a 'duh' voice.

"Cool." Tony stares up at the stick-on stars he covered her ceiling with a few months ago. They glint in the room's light. "Listen, Ang. We gotta talk."

She raises her gaze. He reaches over to close the book. "I need you to be honest with me. You know what honest means?"

"To tell the truth."

"Yep. You know that you can tell Daddy anything, right?"

And now she looks away as her eyes fill with tears. Tony quickly sits up and reaches for her, and she allows him to scoop her into his lap. "Hey," he says. "What's wrong?"

Angelina blinks rapidly. He rubs her cheek in an effort to both console her and help her focus on the conversation at hand. "I know you've been kind of upset lately," he prompts carefully. "Are you nervous about your mom moving in with us?" She nods, and he congratulates himself on eliciting a response. "How come?"

"'Cause I, I'm scared you won't like me anymore," she stammers, voice breaking on the last word along with his heart.

"Ang-"

"Are you gonna like Mommy more?"

Tony shakes his head in disbelief. He can't believe they've made her feel this way, and he can't imagine how. When Angelina is in the room, the attention is on her more often than not. And besides, after all that time the two of them spent alone, having nobody in the world but each other, how could she think that-

No. That's exactly it.

She's used to having him to herself. And she's only beginning to realize that Ziva being a part of _both_ their lives means she'll have to share.

While he searches for words, Angelina reclines in his lap. One of his arms curls around her back; the other goes behind her knees. It's been a long, long time since he's held her like this- like a baby. The position doesn't make much sense at her current height, but, as he is overcome with affection, he keeps her in it.

"Ah, Ang," he sighs, kissing her head. "Listen, okay? Can you listen really, really well for Daddy?"

She nods into his chest and sniffles loudly.

"Your mom makes me happy," he says slowly, and proceeds with great caution. "You make me happy, too. And when… when you were younger, and she lived somewhere else, I missed her. But it was okay, because I had you, sweet thing." Playfully, he pokes Angelina in the stomach. She giggles. He smiles briefly and swipes some hair out of her face before taking his serious demeanor back up. "No matter what, I love you. That will always, _always_ be true. I just… I want for you and me and Mommy to be a family. Families live together, so we thought we'd give it a try. You know?"

"Uh-huh," she chokes out tearfully.

"Mommy loves you so much, too. She's excited that she'll get to see you every day." Tony leans down so he can look directly into the eyes he gave her. "And I know it's a little scary, when stuff changes like this. But I think you'll like Mommy living here, too."

Angelina sits up and grasps one of his big hands in her two tiny ones. "Sometimes, at night, I miss her."

"I know you do," he says as a reflex, even though he hadn't realized that before. _This child_. This child, with her innocent gaze and clingy hands and loving heart, with her willingness to forgive and welcome, continues to knock him off his feet. Even after six years, she still startles and surprises him. And she brings him so much joy. "When she moves in, you won't have to miss her anymore." Tony rocks Angelina now, gently. Back and forth. Her tears have dried; she leans comfortably against him. "It'll be okay, Ang. Everything will be fine. You're always gonna be my little girl."

When he starts to let her go, she grabs his shirt in protest, so he embraces her again. She relaxes. Rubbing her back, he positions his mouth next to her ear and softly sings, "_An-ge-lina, lina, lina_." He repeats those same four syllables again and again and again until she drifts off, her face assuming a peaceful expression that he wishes to mirror.

0000000000

Tony and Ziva have never officially lived together before. When they dated the first time around, they spent most nights in the same apartment. They kept their own places, thought, for the times when some disagreement made it difficult to be in each other's presence- and because they had their reservations about the commitment that cohabitation would require.

When Ziva got pregnant, and especially after the baby was born, he all but moved in with her. Their decision to keep Angelina was so last-minute that getting the nursery ready for her was a mad rush. In a span of fifteen hours, Tony had spent twelve hundred dollars on clothes, supplies, and easy-to-assemble furniture, then stuffed it all in Ziva's guest room, along with the crib he put there on a whim and never took down. That pretty much made her apartment the center of his universe- but, technically, he did still have his own.

So this act of sharing a single home is uncharted territory for them. A lot of the furniture, hers as well as his, simply has to go. Only after massive reorganization can they find space to store Ziva's clothes. The apartment has always been plenty of space for him and Angelina, but it clearly isn't meant to be occupied by three people. He brings this up while he's shoving closet hangers back as far as they'll go. "We should probably think about moving out of here. Getting a bigger place."

"One thing at a time, Tony," Ziva chides gently, and he drops it.

Despite the challenges, day one is blissful. It's what he's always wanted, after all: her eating dinner with them. Helping tuck Angelina in. Crawling into his bed and falling asleep beside him. But by the morning of day two, the new living arrangement feels a little strange. She rises earlier than him, which isn't a surprise, but it _is_ a bit unnerving to walk into the bathroom and find the mirror steamed up, a used towel tossed into the hamper. He showers, and when he wanders into the kitchen afterward, Ziva is sitting at the table while a pot of coffee brews behind her.

"Hello," she says, and receives his kiss. "Angelina is in bed. I was not sure how late you usually let her sleep."

Tony glances at the clock. "Eh. Fifteen minutes or so. We gotta get caffeinated before we wake the beast."

"She is six," Ziva laughs. "I find your fear of her amusing."

"You won't for long."

An hour later, he's been proven correct. He can tell that the morning "routine" frazzles her. It's a constant struggle with Angelina's attention span: "Keep eating. Where's your other shoe? No, Ang, those don't match. Get the other blue one." Ziva, who was probably the most focused, organized child who ever existed, stands on the sidelines and observes them. As they're hurrying out the door five minutes late, he throws over his shoulder, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

Ziva presses a finger into her temple. "I have a headache."

He smirks. She punches him.

They take their separate cars to work. Tony rushes into the bullpen and is relieved to see that Gibbs isn't there. Richie and McGee are, though, and as he sits down at his desk, both look at him expectantly.

"What?" he asks.

"Ziva moved in yesterday, didn't she?" McGee asks. It was only last week that they came clean with the team about their relationship, but this, apparently, wasn't news to anybody. Now that their suspicions have been confirmed, they're all very interested in the situation. Bunch of busybodies.

Tony answers the question with a simple, "Yeah."

Richie raises her eyebrows. "How's it going?"

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, guys."

"We're just wondering," she says.

He sighs. How is he already so tired? "It's good. Weird, you know, but… good."

"Why weird?" McGee furrows his brow. "Didn't you say you've been dating again since Christmas or something?"

"Yeah," Tony says impatiently. "The whole thing's just different."

Silence falls, and then Richie- Richie, who has always been the most unsupportive of his allowing Ziva back into Angelina's life- leans forward and waits for him to meet her eyes. When he does, she says, "I hope it works out, Tony. I really do."

"Me too," McGee adds.

No matter how hard he tries, he can never stay annoyed at these people. They always say something to remind him of what has already been proven to him again and again: they care.

0000000000

Their first fight is over a pair of shoes. Not a big deal, obviously, but it's only been two weeks since Ziva moved in. She and Angelina are still adjusting to being with each other every morning and night, and he is getting used to having both of them in one place. All three of them are under a significant amount of stress. So when Ziva makes a pointed comment about how he left his sneakers in the middle of the floor and he gives her an irritable response, the argument escalates quickly. They keep their voices down; Angelina doesn't come out of her room until Ziva has walked away and shut the bathroom door harder than necessary. Angelina looks down the hallway curiously, then asks Tony, "What was that?"

"Oh," he says brightly. "I don't know. Guess your mom dropped something."

Seemingly content with this answer, Angelina walks away. Tony goes into the kitchen, paces, and wills his blood to stop boiling. He can't even remember most of what they said to each other; all he knows for sure is that whatever words they exchanged, his anger lingers.

Ziva doesn't emerge from the bathroom for a long time, and now he remembers that hiding somewhere was always the first thing she did when he made her mad. Eventually, she comes out to help get Angelina get ready for bed. Tony joins them. They talk to each other only when it's necessary, and as soon as she has been tucked in, they return to their state of separation.

Around eleven, he wanders into their room. She is already there, which he knew would be the case. She lies on her back, fingers folded over her stomach. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hi." Ziva tears her gaze away from the ceiling and offers a weak smile.

Tony sits on the edge of the bed. He hates the tension; he wants to fix it. When they were mad at each other before, they would sometimes spend days stewing about it. But they're different people now, and circumstances are different, too. That's no longer the way to deal with anything.

_Shoes_. What a stupid think to get mad at each other about.

Then it occurs to him that there are probably a billion deeper issues that could have come up, and he figures he would rather not get torn up over one of those just yet.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out.

Ziva nods. "I am, too."

He searches for something else to say, but can think of nothing, so he stretches out beside her on the bed. His heart thaws all the way when she rests her head on his shoulder. They sit without talking for a while, the atmosphere becoming more comfortable with every passing minute.

As he feels himself being pulled into the haze of sleep, Tony decides that he's not going to worry about what happened tonight. It will be resolved. This he knows.

What he's going to focus on is the fact that he and Ziva have a tomorrow.

**Ah… what do I have to say here? Two more chapters, I suppose, and thank you much for reading. : )**


	34. Chapter 34

As spring turns to summer, the three of them grow increasingly used to each other's constant company and fall into a routine. Ziva, an early riser by nature, assumes the responsibility of getting Angelina ready each morning. She proves to be very good at handling this. When he tells her so, she blushes, looking extremely pleased.

Tony and Ziva make an effort to be home for dinner every night, and five nights out of seven, they both manage it. Their quiet evenings consist of food, television, and homework. When bedtime arrives and Angelina suddenly decides that the apartment is her personal playground, they take her on together. It is a shared victory when they are finally able to stand in her doorway and see her sleeping.

He's amazed, really, at how many parallels there are between their joint parenting and their old work partnership. They complement each other, just like they always have. For all the changes that have occurred, this, at least, remains the same.

They continue to bicker about silly things, such as who took the last waffle or whether Angelina's reading log got signed, but that's mostly it. Rarely is there an escalating voice. Sometimes, the more complex aspects of their relationship come up, but these are handled very maturely, very honestly. They have _discussions_. Perhaps he's mistaken, but Tony is pretty sure that they've _never _been so open with each other, even before Angelina came along.

Ziva's relationship with their daughter has also flourished. Living together, having her embedded in Angelina's daily life, is probably to thank for this. No longer are they merely companions; they are truly parent and child. Angelina's idiosyncrasies, personality, traits and tendencies are becoming as familiar to Ziva as they have been to Tony. She is good at managing the troublesome situations- tantrums, endless energy- and correcting behavior when necessary. In turn, Angelina listens to Ziva, showers her with affection, and even accepts her comfort. She doesn't question where Tony's heart lies again; she seems to have some understanding of the fact that there is not a quota on the love he has for her. Maybe it's because _she_ is learning to share her own love with two parents instead of just one.

The acquisition of this bond has not lacked a learning curve; there are some tough moments, some stressful days, especially in those first few weeks. As Tony continually assures Ziva, though, practice and experience are everything when it comes to parenting- and, sure enough, the more time that passes, the more confident she becomes.

Every single day, he looks at his little family and how far they've come and feels nothing but pride.

0000000000

Late in June, they take a three-day jaunt up to New York City. It's less a vacation than a journey for closure- Tony has asked Ziva to show him the restaurant where she used to work. She was very wary of returning there when he first asked. "It is over," she said. "My life is here now."

"I'm not gonna try and force you into doing something you don't feel good about," he told her, and it was true. He wasn't going to pressure her. But he also didn't hesitate to add, "I want to see because it happened, no matter how much we wish it hadn't. It's a part of you."

That was all he said on the subject. A couple nights later, she came into their bedroom and said that he was right, that they should go. All three of them.

On the first day, they do touristy things, just to kill time. They walk through Central Park, visit the Statue of Liberty, and go to Times Square, where Tony ends up covering Angelina's eyes while a couple of cops try to tackle a naked man. For the most part, they enjoy themselves; it does occur to him, however, that this is the first trip they've taken together as a family, and the destination makes it bittersweet.

Something else is on his mind, too- the fact that, despite reconnecting with him when Angelina was younger, Tony hasn't talked to his father in a couple of years. Same old, same old; they just fell out of the habit of calling. Too busy, whatever. But he did enjoy that period of time when he spoke to Senior more often, so that night, after Ziva has collapsed on a bed in the hotel room, Angelina curled up beside her, Tony takes his cell phone onto the roof of the building and dials.

On the third ring, his dad answers. "Junior? That you?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "Yeah, it is. I, uh… how've you been?"

"Good, good. Very well, actually. What about you?"

In spite of himself, he chuckles. The warm breeze immediately snatches up the sound and mixes it with the city noises below. "Dad, I've got a lot to tell you."

They go to lunch the next day. Angelina is a bit shy; she doesn't remember her grandfather very well, but, just as before, he quickly gets on her good side. Ziva hugs Senior for a long time. Tony sees his father's lips moving, but can't make out what he's saying. When Ziva draws back, though, there are tears in her eyes. And she is smiling.

It's not a bad time. Not at all. In fact, they sit in the booth for two and a half hours before a manager comes over to kick them out. More hugs are exchanged when they part at the door. Tony watches his dad embrace Ziva, then Angelina, and then he moves in.

"You seem so much happier than last time I saw you, Junior," he says softly.

"I am," Tony replies honestly, and slaps him on the shoulder. "Listen. Keep in touch, okay?"

"I will. You don't be a stranger, either, son."

Tony nods. He definitely won't be. Not anymore.

0000000000

By early evening, they have made their way to _Papita's_. Ziva's muscles are tense as they stand on the sidewalk, looking up at the flashing neon sign. Tony takes her hand and entwines their fingers. He stares down the street, envisioning her walking along this sidewalk every single day. How strange. The fact that she practically lived here for five years while he and Angelina were just an hour or so away… it's all so _strange_.

"Let's go inside," he says.

Ziva bites her bottom lip. Angelina, holding onto her free hand, looks bored. "Is that necessary?"

"I can go alone, if you want," Tony offers. "I just want a quick glance. That's all."

She hesitates, but then she says, "I will come," and he is relieved. They head inside and immediately find themselves at the end of a huge line. He watches her carefully and could swear that her face relaxes a little bit.

"Jessica!"

She inhales deeply.

It takes him a second to remember that Ziva had an alias when she worked here. He follows her gaze to a Hispanic man leaning over the counter, completely ignoring the line of customers and his rushing coworkers.

"_Is_ you! Come here, girl!" he says in heavily accented English. "Where did you _go_? You just left, didn't tell no one where you went!"

She sighs. "What is he doing out here? He is a dishwasher."

Tony worries for a split-second about what she'll do next- and then she hoists Angelina onto her hip and pushes through the throng of people, pulling Tony along behind her. "_Hola, _Rodrigo," she greets when they reach the counter.

Now Tony remembers this name. He looks into the man's open, smiling face and can understand how he became the only friend Ziva had in New York.

Rodrigo is glancing between all three of them. The corners of his mouth are only rising higher. "Ain't this lucky? I was just headin' out." Eyeing her two companions, he adds, "You gonna introduce me?"

"This is my daughter," Ziva says. Angelina waves shyly. Then she adds, "And my boyfriend. Tony."

Understanding dawns on Rodrigo's face as he looks at the three of them. "I knew there had to be someone waitin' for you," he says. "I knew you wouldn't take off for no good reason. We miss you 'round here, Jessica. But, man. This is awesome. Good for you."

Ziva smiles. It looks like a real one. "Thank you."

From behind them, someone yells, "What the hell's the hold up?"

"We better go," she says quickly as Rodrigo grimaces and Angelina's eyes get wide. "I just… it was good to see you."

"You too, you too. Stop in any time, _nena_."

She gives a polite nod, then turns around and leaves. Tony follows right behind her; when they emerge onto the busy sidewalk, he wraps an arm around her shoulders. "You okay?"

"Yes." Lifting her face to the sky, she declares, "This is all over now. I am glad we came, but I will… I will never come here again."

Something about her in that moment renders him speechless. Maybe it's her little smile. Maybe it's the hair blowing behind her. Whatever it is, she looks happy.

He pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head.

0000000000

_Three Months Later_

"Look what I got at school," Angelina says, bursting into the living room with her hand outstretched. Tony takes it and makes a big show out of looking at the huge Ring Pop she has slipped onto her index finger. "Charlie Lubanski gave it to me."

"Fancy," he says. From her spot beside him on the couch, Ziva chuckles. "Bet it tastes good, too."

"It does." Angelina closes her lips around the candy diamond, then turns on her heel and heads back down the hall.

Once she is gone, he looks at Ziva. "Who the hell is Charlie Lubanski?"

"A boy, apparently. One who I _assume_ has a crush on our daughter."

Tony scowls, his annoyance at Angelina being the apple of some kid's eye only somewhat exaggerated. He knows it won't be _too_ terribly long before she will actually be dating, and that makes him nervous. Laughing, Ziva lays her hand on his knee. "I think it is cute."

He starts to reply, but then pauses with his mouth hanging open as he catches sight of her empty ring finger. Suddenly, the room seems a little bit smaller, and he desperately wants to change the subject.

_Get a grip, _he tells himself. _She's not thinking about that._ But being aware of this doesn't help much, because _he_ has spent a lot of time lately thinking about proposing. The reason he hasn't yet is that he's indecisive. Is the timing right? Should it be elaborate, or should he just ask? Will she even find it necessary to get married when they're already living- and have a child- together?

As for him, he feels ready- and, yes, he wants to make it official. He wants to stand up and vow to love her forever. He wants to wear a gold band so everyone knows that his heart belongs to her, that he's proud of this life they share, regardless of the trying circumstances under which it was built. So if she objects… well. He will convince her.

"Tony?" Her voice jars him from his thoughts, and she tilts her head, looking concerned. "What's the matter? Do not worry about this boy; he and Angelina are not going to get married the second they turn eighteen or anything-"

"It's not that," he interrupts. "I'm thinking about… you and me. Getting married." The second her jaw drops marginally, he begins to stutter. "I- I mean-"

"Stop, Tony," Ziva says, rubbing his back in a soothing motion. He stares at the wall. "It's okay." Now her chin is on his shoulder. He allows their temples to rest against each other. "It is probably something we should talk about, yes?"

With a little sigh of relief, he says, "Yeah."

She draws back, giving herself enough room to cup his cheek and turn his face toward hers. "To me, it is very simple," she says quietly, seriously. "The happiest times of my life have been with you. And the worst… was the time we spent apart. So ask me, Tony. Ask me when you're ready, and the answer will be yes."

He searches her eyes and sees nothing but truth. Leaning forward, allowing his lips to brush hers, he murmurs, "If I were to ask now?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

**IMPORTANT- READ-**

**The next chapter is NOT the last one. We are going to have thirty-six total chapters, rather than thirty-five. This chapter was a last-minute addition; a large portion of it was going to be published separately as a missing scene, but I decided to just include it in the story. So we still have two more. :) Thanks very much for reading, as always.**


	35. Chapter 35

**I feel obligated to prepare everybody for the last section of this chapter, because I have this image of somebody reading along, seeing that first bit of dialogue, being momentarily confused and then being like, "Whoaaaaa." I just don't want anybody to be caught off guard. :P So yes, there is a bit of innuendo in this chapter. Nothing explicit. Just wanted you to be aware going in.**

**Enjoy!**

In early December, Tony and Ziva become husband and wife. It's a small affair at the courthouse, attended by their daughter, a judge, and one witness each- Abby for her, McGee for him. Tony tears up as she slips the ring onto his finger, and she does the same when he takes her hand. And then they are laughing at themselves, their quivering lips turning into smiles and staying that way.

There is no immediate honeymoon. It's booked for March, and they're excited, but not too deflated about having to wait. After all, most of what they'll be doing in Paris can be done perfectly well in their new bedroom.

The house has three of those, plus two baths and a huge backyard that Angelina loves to run around in. It's right on the outskirts of D.C., close enough to his old apartment that she gets to stay at her school and also not too far from the Navy Yard. Really, it's perfect for their family; if he hadn't known better, he'd think it was tailor made for them. It's a great place- a _permanent _place- and they're happy in it.

They're happy overall.

The holiday evolves into a blend of Christmas, Chanukah, and new DiNozzo traditions. Gifts sit beneath a tree. Cookies are baked. Ziva and Angelina help Tony to relearn dreidel. They drive around the city a few times, looking at businesses and homes decked out with brightly colored lights. Each of them has a role in these jaunts: he sits at the wheel and makes _Christmas Vacation_ references. Angelina squeals. Ziva hums in admiration.

It's simultaneously what he would expect and what he once thought would never be.

Two days before Christmas, they park the car downtown and take a walk in the evening cold. Angelina trots along between Tony and Ziva, mitten-clad hands holding their gloved ones, as they maneuver through the crowded sidewalk. She occasionally stops to peer into a store window or to marvel at an especially extravagant display of décor. After a stranger almost bumps into her, Ziva scoops her up.

"Hey," Angelina says, surprised, but nestles closer to her mother.

"You are going to get knocked over, sweetheart."

They go on. Tony grabs Ziva's free hand and kisses it; Angelina, perched on Ziva's hip, appears not to notice. "I'll carry her if you get tired."

"Okay," she says with a smile. Something passes in front of his eyes, and he looks up to find that the sky has opened up.

"It's snowing!" Angelina shouts, throwing both arms in the air. "I'm gonna catch it on my tongue!"

As she tilts her head back, trying to capture a snowflake, Ziva laughs and mimics her.

Their voices, light and joyful, are the loveliest of sounds.

0000000000

The night before they leave for their long-awaited honeymoon, Tony takes a break from packing his suitcase and wanders into the master bathroom, where Ziva disappeared a while ago. He finds her in there, standing at the sink with a bottle in her hand.

"What's that?" he asks, and peers over her shoulder. Up close, he sees that she is holding her birth control pills. "Oh."

She turns around, pursing her lips. "Should I bring these with me, Tony?"

Silence meets her words. He sighs softly and meets her gaze. The conversation about whether to have more children has not been explored extensively; during their engagement, they did come to the conclusion that they would _like_ another one, but no tangible plans were made. Now he asks her, "Do you _want _to bring them?"

Ziva shakes the bottle a little, causing the pills to rattle around inside. "I do not know."

"Guess it depends on whether we're ready to try," he says slowly, searching her expression for a hint as to what she's thinking. Ziva bites her lip, and he senses her hesitation. "We can wait."

"Tony…"

"What?"

"I'm _terrified_." Her voice breaks on the last word. She lifts a hand to her forehead as he shoulders begin to shake. "After what happened last time… what if that happens again?"

Tony pulls her into an embrace, and she comes willingly, curling against his chest. Her fears are not foreign to him; he has the exact same ones. The memories of those painful eighteen months are fresh in his mind. But he has faith in her. In them. "It won't."

"You don't know that."

He exhales loudly, because she speaks the truth. Neither of them can predict with absolute certainty what will happen if her hormones get thrown off by another pregnancy. But the risk, in his opinion, is worth it. "If you're uncomfortable with it, that's fine. I'm not pressuring you."

Ziva draws back. "I just-"

"Listen," he interrupts, and cups her face in his hands. "Let's go on our honeymoon. Okay? Pack your pills, and let's not worry about anything but having an amazing time. You and me. And when we get back, we'll talk about this more."

She nods. Already, her muscles are beginning to relax. "Okay." Then she rubs his chest affectionately. "Let's go to Paris."

0000000000

Despite some lingering reluctance on Ziva's part, they start trying in late May. It's only about a week, though, before the night when she suddenly hits him on the shoulder. "Get out," she orders. "_Now_. Get out."

Tony rolls off of her, confused. When he looks back over, he sees that she has begun to cry. "Hey," he whispers, wrapping her up in his arms. She digs her fingernails into his back. Warm tears land on his bare chest. "Hey. What's the matter?"

"I can't."

"You can't what?"

"I can't get pregnant," she whimpers, gripping him ever harder. As if she's his lifeline, he reciprocates. He should have seen this coming, and on some level, maybe he did, but it still feels like a blow has been delivered to his gut. "I'm so scared, Tony. So scared. And we… we have been _very_ happy, and I do not want to ruin everything."

"It wouldn't ruin everything," he says. The fact that they've been through something so horrible that she's afraid to have another child physically pains him. He feels like he's being weighed down. Grounded. "We can do this, Ziva."

She lets out a strangled sound. A sob. Tony twists his fingers into her hair. Her entire body shudders, and then, for a few minutes, she becomes incapable of speech. She clutches him and gasps for air and he just holds her, because there's nothing else to do. When she can manage it, she says, "You told me again and again, before Angelina was born and also after, that I had the ability to be a mother. That there was nothing to worry about. But there was, Tony. I… I left."

He closes his eyes. "Things were different-"

"Yes. They were." Ziva strokes his cheek. "But it is a situation I do not want to place our family in again."

Tony wants to fight her. He wants to say that this is ridiculous, that she's paranoid. But he can't do that, because it's not and she's not. She might even be right. So he remains quiet, lets her sooth him with her gentle touch.

"We have Angelina," he says eventually, leaving unspoken what he knows they're both thinking: that she's nearly eight years old, that the next decade is going to fly by and then she'll be gone. That she's a blessing, the greatest blessing, and she is all they _need_, but that doesn't quench their desire for another one like her.

"I really did want this," Ziva murmurs brokenly.

He presses his lips to the top of her head. "I know."

And then, realizing the depth of those scars that are never going to completely heal, he weeps.

**One more, one more! :D**


	36. Chapter 36

**READ THIS PLEASE:**

**The reason this update took so long was that I had to make some more last-minute changes, and I wanted to get everything all sorted out before I updated so that I wouldn't give you guys false information. Again. So here's what's up: the last chapter is going to be Chapter 38. So, including this one, we have three more.**

**What happened here is that when I finished writing the story at the end of January, I had been writing it nonstop for three months and was just ready to be done. So toward the end, I rushed, and it wasn't until I was about to publish these last few chapters that I realized they were completely messed up. Everything had to be redone, but I'm about done fixing it now, so here you go!**

**Thanks to Natalie for helping with the Hebrew!**

Tony is eavesdropping.

On his wife and kid.

He knows it's ridiculous to be standing outside Angelina's room, just barely peeking through the doorway. Clearly, it is not a top-secret conversation; it does, however, have a bit of a private air. Angelina is curled up in bed with her mother squeezed in beside her. Ziva lightly strokes her daughter's hair as she talks. He gets very quiet, not even daring to shuffle his feet, and strains his ears.

"…most beautiful baby," she is saying. "Some children are born without hair, but you had so much. And I will never forget the first time you looked at me with those big eyes."

Angelina giggles bashfully. "Did you take care of me when I was a baby?"

From his vantage point, Tony can see Ziva's shoulders tense up. "I did."

"Before you had to go away?"

"Yes." She busies herself with readjusting the comforter, pulling it up to Angelina's chin. His sigh is little more than a soft _whoosh_ of breath being released. He remembers the time they are speaking of like it was yesterday: the way Ziva would change Angelina, feed her, do anything he asked, but never utter a word.

No wonder the idea of having another child- and bringing back those pregnancy hormones- makes her so anxious.

"Did I cry a lot? Is that why you left?" Angelina asks.

Tony watches Ziva carefully. She shakes her head from side to side. "No, sweetheart. It had nothing to do with you. You were such a good baby. So, so good."

Angelina seems to accept that answer. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course."

"Daddy, too?"

"Daddy, too." Ziva smiles ruefully and wraps her arms fully around Angelina, holding the little girl tight against her. "I am so happy that I get to be with both of you now."

Angelina delivers a loud kiss to Ziva's cheek. "So am I." She rolls onto her side. "_Laila tov_, Mommy."

Tony is startled. He hadn't known that Ziva was teaching Angelina Hebrew. But then he sees Ziva's face, shocked like his, and realizes that she hasn't been. Not on purpose, anyway.

"Now, how did you remember that?" Ziva teases gently, leaning over to press her lips against Angelina's forehead. "You are very smart. _Laila tov_, _yaldah metukah sheli_."

As she starts to get up, he turns and heads back down the hallway, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

0000000000

Later that night, he lies in his own bed, watching Ziva pull her hair up in a ponytail. Her choice of pajamas, a tank top and shorts, leaves a lot of olive skin exposed. Normally, he would be making suggestive comments right now; the mood has yet to return, though, since she stopped him in the middle of sex two weeks ago.

She turns off the bedside lamp and crawls in next to him, then rolls onto her stomach and rests her face sideways on the pillow. Tony copies her position. Their noses are almost touching, and he notices that her blinks are long and slow. "Tired?" he asks softly, moving one hand to rub the small of her back.

"Quite." Ziva opens her eyes fully. "I took another pregnancy test tonight, just to be sure."

He fights to keep his voice neutral. "Still negative?"

"Yes."

For a second, he chews on the inside of his cheek. Then he opts for full disclosure. "I had this… I kind of hoped that you were already pregnant."

"Me too," she says softly.

Tony stares, taken aback. "Really?"

She nods. "If I was, there would not be a choice. We would have the baby and hope for the best, and that is what we both truly want. But as long as this decision is still up to us… I cannot, in good conscious, intentionally have another one."

"Do you think that… eventually…?"

Ziva huffs, annoyed, and twists out of his grip. She sits cross-legged, leaning back against the headboard. Tony props himself up on an elbow. With his other hand, he touches her bare knee. "Hey," he says gently. "Just a question."

"No." It is firm. Final. The little window of hope that had opened in his heart slams closed. "I told you that. No."

"Okay," Tony says submissively. "Okay." He lightly strokes her skin, and, to his relief, she relaxes. His mind drifts back to what he saw earlier, the skillful, honest way with which Ziva addressed Angelina's tough questions and the love on prominent display the entire time. "Do you even realize what an awesome mom you are? I see you with Angelina sometimes and I think, _damn_. Because you're a natural. It's amazing."

She lets out a harsh bark of laughter. "I missed five years of her life, Tony. That is _not_ part of being a good mother."

Tony isn't sure how his compliment returned her to that dark place of guilt and self-loathing, but it appears that it has. There are a million things he could say, but none of them would be helpful. Or original. He has tried to reassure her again and again and again. Clearly, it's not sticking.

So he keeps his mouth shut and puts his head in her lap. He feels a little strange seeking comfort when he should probably be giving it, but, a moment later, she winds her fingers into his hair. It occurs to him that this might be what she needs after all: to be assured that _she's_ capable of soothing _him_.

Well, she is. She definitely is.

"I'm sorry," she says suddenly. Tony moves onto his back and looks up at her.

"For what?"

"For this. This whole mess. I know how much you wanted another child." Ziva puts a hand to his cheek, and he leans into her warm touch. "It is not fair that my issues are getting in the way of your happiness. You… if you, after all that time raising Angelina alone, still have the energy to do it again, to _want_ to do it again, there is no good reason for _me_ to say no." She sighs regretfully. It's such a sad sound, and he can't stand it.

Tony sits up and cups her face. Almost immediately, she grabs one of his wrists and holds on tight, like she needs support. He speaks fiercely; it is so, _so_ important that he drill this into her thick skull. "The last thing you're doing is getting in the way of my happiness. I'm already happy. I'm happier than I've been in my entire life. And it's not in spite of you. It's because of you." Something flickers in her eyes, and he presses forward. "Look at us. Look at what we have. We have a house and a daughter and good jobs and a _life_ together. This was our dream. From the beginning. We've _got _it, Ziva. It's ours now."

"Tony-"

"Shh." He rests his forehead against hers, and their breaths intermingle. Hers is coming in fast, short little pants, as if listening to his monologue is the equivalent of running a marathon. "It didn't come easily," he continues quietly. "I wouldn't trade Angelina for the world, but the consequences of that pregnancy ended up hurting all of us. It makes _sense_ that you wouldn't want to do it again. Hell, the idea kinda scares me, too. So let's celebrate what we've already survived and move on. Okay? Let's just… everything's okay, baby."

Tony feels hollow, renouncing his wish in this way, until he sees Ziva's shoulders sag with relief and her face open up. "You forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, and then he kisses her nose, forehead, cheekbones, and chin before finally landing on her lips. They kiss slowly, softly, an act of intimacy rather than one of passion. His fingers dip beneath the hem of her shirt as she tugs him down onto the bed.

Their limbs become entangled. They hold each other desperately. But before it escalates, before he must force himself to ask about her birth control and whether they can even do this yet, everything slows down. Ziva pulls away first, he's pretty sure. She doesn't loosen her grip around his torso. She just raises her chin and looks right at him, appearing deep in thought.

"What's wrong?" Tony whispers, settling his hands at her hips.

"I've just decided something." The statement comes out sounding more like a question.

"What?"

Ziva gives him a small peck. "Do not get your hopes up," she murmurs. "I do not want you to be disappointed if it doesn't work out."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, honestly confused.

She pauses, as if carefully choosing her words. Then: "Obviously, I still have a lot of… personal issues. They are things I need to work through. I owe that to you-"

"You don't owe me-"

"To you and to Angelina and to myself, as well, Tony," Ziva interrupts. "You know that a therapist's office… is my least favorite place in the world."

His heart is pounding, threatening to burst out of his chest. _Surely she's not really saying…_

"But I think that it is where I need to be. I will call that woman I used to see. Carol something. And I will try- _try_- to become comfortable with having another baby." Ziva furrows her brow. "Does that sound okay to you?"

"Yes," Tony says, overcome with an almost incomprehensible amount of love. "But only if you want to do that, Ziva."

She bites her lip. "I do," she says in a tone that is amazed and stunned and hesitant and wistful. "I actually do."

Other than a single, hard nod, he can't answer.

He's too busy trying not to cry.


	37. Chapter 37

"Petty Officer Small's kid," Gibbs says suddenly.

Tony looks up from his computer. He recognizes the name of the man killed by his wife in a case the team solved last month, but isn't sure why the couple's only child is being mentioned now. "What about him?" "He's downstairs. Richie took him to Small's mother during the investigation, but now she's brought him in. Says she can't afford him. I need you to watch him until the social worker gets here."

"Why me?"

"You're good with kids."

"So are you."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna do it."

The power to delegate is one of the advantages of being the boss, so Tony can't really fight this. He takes the elevator down to the lobby and finds a security guard waiting for him. A boy of about two with brown eyes and blonde hair sticking up in all different directions sits on the guard's hip. As he nears them, Tony tries to remember the boy's name. He's only heard it in passing from Richie. Was it Austin? Dallas? Dakota? It's some place; he knows that much.

"Hey, DiNozzo," the guard says. "Here for Houston?"

Oh, yeah. "Sure am," he says, and leans down to the kid's level. "Can I call you Texas?"

Houston's eyebrows scrunch together. "No."

"Ah, fine. Alright." With a nod to the guard, Tony takes Houston, and then he starts in the direction of the break room. "Let's see what we've got for you in here, man," he says absently. As they walk through the corridor, Houston's fingers curl around Tony's bicep, and he finds himself watching the toddler, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Cases involving children bother him more than they did before he became a father, for obvious reasons. It amazes him, now, how lucky Angelina is: she had a broken home at one point, but there was still somebody who met her needs, loved her, provided her with stability. And Houston… this kid is going to end up in foster care.

Just like she might have, he realizes suddenly, if he and Ziva had handed her to Melinda Anderson.

This jarring thought makes him desperately want to see his daughter, but the only child around at the moment is the one in his arms. Tony briefly tries to smooth down Houston's cowlicks, but every time he removes his hand, the tufts of hair spring back up.

"Where Grammy?" Houston asks.

He purses his lips, puts on a cheery voice. "She asked me to hang out with you for a while."

They reach the break room. Tony gets a package of mini Oreos from the vending machine, then sits Houston down in a chair. Slumping into another one, Tony takes out his phone and sends Ziva a text message, asking her to come meet them on her lunch break.

Half an hour later, Houston has only eaten a few Oreos. The rest are all over the table. Tony has been letting him do what he wants; the kid is having fun and entertaining himself, after all. It's making the babysitting a whole lot easier.

Then Ziva walks in and gasps. "What happened in here?"

Houston giggles mischievously and makes a _kaboom_ sound as the two cookies in his hands collide.

"We're playing with our food," Tony says nonchalantly, running a hand lightly over her hip as she passes by. It's been three months since she started going to therapy. Not a lot of leeway has been made on the baby front. He does think that it's helping her accept this reservation of hers, though he sometimes catches her staring out the window or looking wistfully at Angelina. These depressed moods come over him, too. He desperately hopes that time really does heal all wounds.

"Clearly," Ziva sighs. She immediately begins to gather the Oreos into a pile, and then she pushes them all over to Houston. "Why don't you eat these?" she asks him, smiling. "They are very good."

With a somewhat hesitant look at her, he picks up one of the cookies and dutifully drops it in his mouth. Chews. Swallows. Reaches for another one.

"The calming powers of the ninja," Tony quips, earning himself a smirk. A relative peace has fallen over the room. He's grateful for it. Lightly, he taps her leg with his foot, and she returns the gesture. The sun bounds through the window and glints off of her wedding ring. "So, Mrs. DiNozzo. How's your day?"

"Fine. I have mostly been arguing with a French government official," she says, making a face. Tony pictures her yelling into the phone while her colleagues look on. Inevitably, she will win whatever fight she's engaged in.

Ziva's eyes land on Houston, who is still happily munching away. "What is the story here?" she asks quietly.

He turns his entire body toward her, away from Houston, and mutters, "Mom killed Dad. Grandma can't or won't keep him, not sure which. Waiting for child services."

Something in her face changes. She starts at Houston, appearing stricken. Tony touches her elbow. "What's wrong?"

"All done!" the toddler declares. Tony glances from his wife to Houston and back again. He starts to press Ziva further, but now she is sliding her personal phone across the table. Houston puts his dirty fingers on the touch screen, experimenting. Ziva watches. And Tony remains silent.

0000000000

A couple hours after Ziva returns to work, a social worker arrives. Tony has recovered a bouncy ball from Abby's lab (without asking why the hell she has one), and he and Houston have been tossing it around for a long while. Tony says goodbye as he pockets the ball. Houston begins to wail. For some reason- maybe because he knows that the kid's life isn't going to get any easier from here on out- Tony is filled with guilt. He eventually has to avert his eyes and walk away. Houston's cries follow him down the hall.

That night, after Angelina is in bed, Ziva approaches him, wearing a funny expression. Bashful, maybe. Tony turns off the TV and pats the spot beside him on the couch. "What's up?" he asks, squeezing her knee.

"I have been thinking," she sighs, "about that little boy."

He looks at her, surprised. "Houston?"

"Yes." Ziva slumps against the cushion behind her. "His mother… abandoned him. And so did his grandmother. Just like I did with Angelina."

His eyebrows shoot straight up. "Ziva. His mom is a _murderer_. It's not the same at all."

"He is without a family, and it is because of her. Angelina was more fortunate; she had you and McGee and the others. But whatever differences there are, the fact remains that me and that woman both betrayed our children."

Tony exhales loudly. "Look, I get your point, but… Small's wife was having an affair. She killed him because she wanted to run off with the mystery man. She was _selfish._ You had reasons for what you did. Legitimate reasons."

"I want to help him, Tony."

He's caught off-guard. "How?"

She laces her fingers through his, presses her small, soft palm against his large, callused one. "I regret not being able to give you another child. You know that."

"Yeah, and I understand why-"

Ziva interrupts, leaning forward urgently. "My therapist has brought adoption up to me before, thinking it might be a viable option because I wouldn't have to go through a pregnancy. I dismissed it until… well, until today, when I actually _saw_ Houston and realized that we could give a home to a child like Angelina."

Tony studies her as his brain makes the connection between her words and her meaning. She looks serious. Determined. "You want to _adopt_ him?"

"I want to look into it."

He remembers how bad he felt for Houston, how much it pained him to think that Angelina could have ended up in foster care, bouncing from place to place, never finding a permanent niche. Adoption is not something they've discussed before. This is out of the blue, really… but maybe it's not that far-fetched.

Then Ziva gets up and leaves the room. Tony wonders momentarily if he's offended her somehow, but then she returns, and something is in her hands. She gives it to him.

Small's case file.

"Did Gibbs let you take this?" he asks.

She shrugs. Code for 'no'.

"You do realize _I'm_ the one who's gonna get headslapped if he finds out?"

"Tony. Think for a minute. Do you believe Gibbs when he says that there is no such thing as a coincidence?"

Tony thinks about it. About her warmth beside him. About their daughter, sound asleep down the hall. Nods slowly. "Yeah."

"Okay. So open that file. Look at his middle name."

He does as she says, not knowing her angle until he reads it.

Houston Anthony.

0000000000

They have a meeting with the social worker. She is more than willing to work with them, and she begins by explaining the adoption process in detail. Armed with brochures and pamphlets, they go home. Discuss it at length. Look over their finances. Offhandedly ask Angelina how she would feel about a sibling.

They decide to go for it.

0000000000

It's a long ordeal. There are visits with more social workers, a couple of whom come to observe them at home. They need letters of recommendation and psychological evaluations. There is so much paperwork- something they both get more than enough of already- but, by Thanksgiving, it's been determined that they're not psychopaths, and they are allowed to visit Houston while they wait for the rest of the legal proceedings that come with adoption to get underway.

The house is small and run-down. As Tony parks on the street in front of it, he asks, "Are you sure this is it?"

Ziva double-checks the address in her hand. "Yes."

"How the hell are they keeping eight kids in there?" It's a rhetorical question; he doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he opens the door and steps out into the autumn chill. Ziva does the same. As if a gravitational pull connects them, they immediately fall into step beside each other. Tony squeezes her hand. Just once. Just as a quick reassurance.

They mount the porch steps. She rings the doorbell. From inside, they hear a flurry of activity and a young voice yelling, "Who is it?"

A few seconds later, the door swings open to reveal Delores, the single foster parent who lives here. She is a stout woman with cropped gray hair- pretty much what Tony imagined, based on her name. He opens his mouth to offer a greeting, but she interrupts him in a businesslike, no-nonsense fashion. "Mr. and Mrs. DiNozzo?"

"Yes," Ziva answers.

"Come in." Delores steps back, giving the two of them room to enter the house, and Tony decides that she's not unpleasant. Three older children have a game of Uno set up in the middle of the foyer. Their wide eyes are on the newcomers. It's obvious that they are not comfortable around adults. And, really, who can blame them? The adults who should be taking care of them don't, so they've spent their lives being traded among strangers.

A knot forms in Tony's gut. He wishes, suddenly, that he could find permanent homes for all these kids.

"You've been allotted an hour to visit, correct?" Delores asks.

Tony nods.

"Addison," she says, and a little girl immediately stands up as if she's been trained. "Houston is in the kitchen with Jeremiah, having a snack. Bring him into the living room." Then Delores turns to Tony and Ziva. "This way."

They follow her into the other room and take a seat on an old floral couch while she remains standing, arms crossed, staring expectantly into the doorway. Tony and his wife share a short nonverbal exchange. He can tell that she finds this place every bit as creepy as he does.

Houston and Addison appear a minute later, though Addison vanishes very quickly. Tony's eyes rake over the former's tiny body. Admittedly, he looks fed and clean. Healthy.

Not happy, though.

Ziva raises a hesitant hand in the toddler's direction. "Hello, Houston," she says. He stares at her.

There is a crash from elsewhere in the house. Delores turns red in the face and storms out of the room. As she passes Houston, she accidentally knocks him onto his bottom, then doesn't stop to help him up. His lip quivers for just a second before he begins to cry loudly.

"Crazy lady," Tony mutters, walking over to the little boy. "Hey, man," he says. "It's okay."

Houston doesn't cease in his blubbering. Tony glances back at Ziva, who orders, "Pick him up!"

_Right. _Duh. He swings Houston onto his hip. "You're okay," he says softly, feeling kind of awkward, which makes him nervous. Has he lost the skills that helped him survive when Angelina was younger? Or, worse- what if he's never able to connect with this kid the way he does with his biological daughter?

Ziva has sidled up beside him and is lightly stroking Houston's blonde locks. "Don't worry," she says, and for just a second, Tony thinks that she has read his mind and the words are meant for him. But then she continues with, "What's in your hand? Is it a toy?" This doesn't elicit a response, so she mimes taking something. "May I see it?"

Houston hands over a blue top that Tony hadn't even noticed before. She crouches in front of the coffee table, pinches the top's handle between her thumb and index finger, and twists her wrist. Almost immediately, Houston's sobs subside into sniffles as he is mesmerized by the resulting blur. When the top falls off the table's edge and onto the worn carpet, he wriggles in Tony's arms. Tony lets him down, and he walks over to pick up the top and hold it out to Ziva.

"Make go," he says.

Ziva spins it a couple more times before Houston decides to try on his own. The top repeatedly falls on its side without making even one revolution; then Tony leans over and guides his tiny hand.

"Here we go," he says. "Ready? One… two… three."

Both of them pull away. The top spins.

And spins.

And spins.

**One more chapter, and I really mean it this time! :P**


	38. Chapter 38

One night when Ziva is working late, the phone rings while Tony and Angelina are eating dinner. He picks it up, glances at the caller ID, and recognizes the number as belonging to Houston's social worker.

His heart sinks.

"Who is it?" Angelina asks curiously. "Is it Mommy? Tell her I drew her a picture at school."

"No, it's a friend of mine," Tony replies. "I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay." She spoons more macaroni into her mouth, and he squeezes her shoulder.

In the living room, he answers the call quietly. "Hello?"

"Mr. DiNozzo." He can _hear_ the regret in the social worker's voice, and he's sort of grateful that Ziva's not here, but another, more selfish part of him wishes that she was, for his own comfort. "I'm sorry to bother you tonight, but there has been a development in Houston's case."

"What is it?" Tony asks, scraping his upper lip with his bottom row of teeth.

"His grandmother has filed for custody."

"The same grandmother who abandoned him at a government agency in the first place?" He thought that Houston was hurt, maybe, or that somebody else wanted to adopt him. But not this. The possibility of the old woman reappearing never crossed his mind. "How can that even be… I mean, are they gonna give him to her?"

"More than likely," the social worker says. "Courts tend the take the side of blood relatives. I'm sorry, Mr. DiNozzo."

He opens his mouth but says nothing, because Ziva is walking in the door. As soon as she sees him with his phone to his ear and a no doubt stricken look on his face, her smile vanishes and she drops her bag. "What?" she asks. "What is it?"

"I have to go," Tony says into the phone, and hangs up without waiting for a response. He walks over to Ziva, takes her hands.

"Where is Angelina?" she asks, panicked.

"In the kitchen. It's not her," he says quickly. "That was about Houston."

Her jaw drops marginally, and he hates what he has to tell her. Houston and his adoption are no longer an abstract idea; they've been visiting him every week for three months now. They have begun to think of him as their son. Losing him in this way will not be easy. Far from it. "What _about_ him?"

"The grandmother wants him back, and she'll probably get him."

Ziva inhales sharply. "That is ridiculous."

"I know." Tony sighs in frustration. "She's allowed to dump him on the state, then change her mind, just like that?"

Pursing her lips, Ziva puts her head on Tony's shoulder. He massages her scalp with his fingertips and leans down to kiss her neck. "I thought this was going to work out," she says.

They both did. In fact, they were so confident that they've explained the situation to Angelina. She knows where her parents have been going every Sunday. She's _excited._

_We're visiting your new brother. Sometime soon, he's going to move in with us. The room across from yours, that'll be his._

_Can I come with you guys? I wanna meet my little brother._

_You will soon. Not this time, though._

Now she never will.

And she's going to be just as crushed as her parents are.

0000000000

Angelina cries when she's told that she won't be getting a little brother, after all.

Her parents hold it together extremely well while they're comforting her. Tony puts her in his lap, Ziva makes her a bowl of ice cream, and they explain what has happened the best they can. Once she seems to understand, at least marginally, they feed her reason after reason not to be sad. Most of them are bullshit, but they cheer her up. And that's what matters.

It's not until she has gone to get ready for bed that Ziva tears up and Tony does, too.

The following month is hard. A somber mood fills their house, hangs thickly over everybody like a black cloud. Tony and Ziva talk in circles as they try to answer the question, _what now?_

She has been visiting the shrink with decreasing frequency; the adoption agency kept her and Tony busy, and besides, the point of the therapy was to help her become comfortable with having a baby. Once they decided to adopt Houston, Ziva no longer deemed it important to go regularly. He didn't push her, but perhaps he should have. Because now, when they're stuck between a rock and a hard place, her ultimate ruling on whether or not they can get pregnant is, "Not yet."

The other option is to try and adopt another child. Neither one of them is terribly enthused by that idea. They have already put so much time and energy into Houston. They're tired and heartbroken.

So they decide against that, as well.

Tony has to readjust to the fact that they're done with kids. The whole thing has been insane; he and Ziva want nothing more than to move on. Put it behind them. Be happy with what they have, as they resolved to do before.

Then, at the end of March, they get an unexpected call from Houston's social worker. She says that he has been left on the doorstep of his former foster home and asks if Tony and Ziva are interested in trying the adoption again.

And despite everything, they are.

0000000000

Several more months pass. It is a waiting game filled with documents, legal proceedings, and immense stress. Tony and Ziva don't tell Angelina what they're doing until right before the adoption is final; they don't want her to get her hopes back up. Just in case.

When they do give her the news, she is just as thrilled as she was the first time. A couple days later, on June 10, he is theirs.

All three of them go to pick him up. As they sit in the car, Angelina presses her face up against the window. "My new little brother lives here?"

"Yep," Tony says, craning his neck to look at Ziva, who is standing in the doorway of the house. She seems to be waiting for something- Houston is already beside her, clutching her hand. He is three by now, and he still has the wild hair, the glint in his eye. He'll get along great with Angelina. "You excited?"

"Yeah!"

Ziva starts down the walk, now with a duffel bag over her shoulder. Houston trots happily along beside her. Tony grins. He couldn't keep it in if he tried.

She opens the back door of the car and lifts Houston into the brand new car seat. "Angelina," she says, "here is your brother!"

Angelina reaches over and pumps his hand. "Hi! I'm your big sister!"

Bemused by the enthusiasm of this person he's never met, Houston moves his arm away.

In the rearview mirror, Tony observes the interaction between these strangers who have suddenly become siblings. Houston picks up a stray toy and examines it. Angelina gently dislodges it from his grip. She starts chattering about what it does and how to use it, and then she demonstrates, keeping Houston's attention the entire time.

Ziva climbs into the passenger seat and flashes him a smile that makes his heart flutter like he's twelve years old. And as he puts the car in drive, he realizes that he can say something he never thought he'd be able to.

His family is truly complete.

0000000000

"Housty!" Angelina scolds loudly. "Stop splashing me!"

Houston laughs. When his sister turns around, he kicks more water toward her, then takes off running down the beach. Angelina sprints after him.

"Don't go too far!" Ziva yells, and both kids give waves of acknowledgement. They come to a stop next to a log that has washed up on the shore. Seeming to forget that they're at odds with each other, Houston and Angelina join forces to begin covering the log with sand.

Tony walks up behind Ziva. Just as he reaches her, she turns around and kisses him. Her hair whips in the wind; he catches it, holds it against her head. "Hello," she murmurs.

"Hey." He strokes her cheekbone with one thumb. There are days, like this one, when he can't stop staring at her. When everything just seems so damn perfect and he is overwhelmed by how _happy_ he is. But, suddenly, he can't find any words to say, so he just draws her into his arms and holds her close. She sighs contentedly and presses her forehead against the side of his neck.

Tony looks over her shoulder at their children. An outsider observing them wouldn't guess that they've only known each other for a little over a year. They are so in sync, so compatible. It's a bond that appears to have been forged at birth.

The four of them are akin to a patchwork quilt, but _something_ here is right, because it works. _They_ work.

For a couple minutes, he and Ziva enjoy each other's embrace in silence. Then she pulls away, gives him one more kiss, and says, "I think it is lunchtime, yes?"

Tony nods, then hollers, "Hey! Houston and Ang! Time to eat!"

The kids sprint back toward their parents, and Tony stands off to the side for no reason other than he wants to watch. Houston reaches Ziva first; he launches himself toward her, and she doesn't even flinch before hoisting him up. Angelina grabs her mother's other hand, talks over her brother, and Ziva listens patiently to both.

What Tony sees right then is a woman who is very much worthy of this family.

And he thinks that he has never been prouder.

**And… that's a wrap.**

**I can't believe I've actually finished this story. So weird. This whole experience has been so weird, actually, because I never expected the kind of following this story has garnered. This has probably been the most amazing writing experience of my life, and I don't think I'll ever be able to replicate the success I've had with this story. So, really, I just want to say thank you to everybody who's read, reviewed, favorited, alerted, etc.**

**THANK YOU.**

**THANK.**

**YOU.**

**You guys are amazing.**


End file.
